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per  le  premier  plat  at  an  terminant  soit  par  la 
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empreinte. 

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at  da  haut  an  baa.  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'imagaa  nAcaaaaira.  Las  diagrammaa  suivanu 
tliuatrant  la  wiAthoda. 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

MICROCOTY  RBOIUTION  TEST  CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


"Mv  1.11  !•   I!i:i.()\i;s  To  Mv        itiif.u  " 


THE 
CRYSTAL  ROOD 


BY  MRS.  HOWARD  GOULD 

WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 
EARL    STETSON  CRAWFORD 


NEW  YORK  :  JOHN  LANE  COMPANY 
TORONTO  :  BELL  &  COCKBURN  :  MCMXIV 


TO 

THE  MEMORY 
OF 

MY  MOTHER 


FOREWORD 


"The  fathers  have  eaten  sour  grapes,  and  the 
teeth  of  the  children  are  set  on  edge." 

So  ran  a  proverb  of  ancient  Israel.  The  litera- 
ture of  the  world  Impresses  upon  us  the  everlast 
ing  truth — "The  sins  of  the  fathers  are  visited 
upon  the  children."  Little  attention  is  paid  to  the 
converse  of  the  proposition.  Virtue  and  vice  are 
alike  transmissible.  Oak  trees  beget  oak  trees, 
and  mulberry  bushes,  mulberry  bushes.  Forces  of 
good  and  evil  so  act  and  re-act  that  sometimes  in 
one  generation  evil  characteristics  are  dominant, 
and  in  a  succeeding  generation  the  ancient  traits 
of  virtue  re-assert  themselves.  "Dominants 
sometimes  become  recessives,  and  recessives  give 
way  to  dominants."  It  is  conceivable  that  there 
might  be  in  man  a  virtue  as  strong  and  buoyant,  as 
unconquerable  and  unsubmersible,  as  the  physical 
characteristics  of  his  race,  like  them  remaining  in- 
sistently dominant  through  all  the  ages. 

Blood  will  tell. 

KATHERINE  CLEMMONS  GOULD 

BooNSBORo,  Virginia, 
October,  19 14. 


CONTENTS 


BOOK  I 

Froiogub^  Bravest  of  the  Brave   ""i" 

BOOK  II 

CBAPTER 

I.   The  Dead  Branch   33 

II.   The  Living  Oak   47 

III.  The  Lane  of  Death  .   .   ,   ,   ,  59 

IV.  The  Trial  yo 
V.   Red  and  White   82 

VI.   The  Crystal  Rood   94 

VIL   The  War  Party   ,01 

VIII.  The  Gathering  Storm  ....  110 

IX.  The  Meeting  on  the  Isle  .  .  .  118 

X.  Bagcataway   125 

XI.  The  Blood  Call   133 

XII.   Understanding   140 

Xin.  Elan  D'Eau   14; 

XIV.  The  I«.and   157 

9 


-o  CONTENTS 

XV.  The  Silver  Fox  

XVI.  New  Orleans  

.  x83 

XVII.   Home  '  '  * 

XVIII.   The  Wood  Thrush  Call  ...  189 

XIX.  The  Warrior  .196 

XX.   The  Decision  **** 

XXI.  The  Swimmer  in  the  Moonlight  209 
XXII.   The  Stowaway  

XXIII.  The  Question  

XXIV.  The  Answer  ^^3 

XXV.  The  Storm  

XXVI.  The  Battle  with  Death   ...  251 

XXVII.  The  New  Life  ^57 

XXVIII.  "Land,  Ho!"  

XXIX.  The  Hand  and  the  Handker- 
chief   

XXX.  An  Indian  on  the  Wall  ...  284 

XXXI.  My  Warrior  

XXXII.  Eyes  That  Looked  Back   ...  301 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"My  life  belongs  to  my  brother" 

Frontispiece 

By  these  devices  she  made  her  fraud  suc- 
cessful      .       .       .       .       .  .54 

"Good-by,  good-byl"      .      •      •  .212 

"You — ^you  are-  ?  .  .  .  My  Warrior"  300 


PROLOGUE 


BRAVEST  OF  THE  BRAVE 

Malek-el-Adel,  the  Sultan,  whom  the  Moslems 
called  "the  Light  of  the  Faith,"  having  bound 
himself  by  the  beard  of  the  Prophet,  and  Bald- 
win, Jerusalem's  king,  by  the  cross  on  his  sword, 
that  neither  would  do  violence  to  the  other,  his 
property,  or  the  peace  of  his  dominions,  for  one 
year  and  one  day,  Baldwin  and  seven  of  his 
nobles  rode  down  to  Acre,  whence  they  took  ship 
for  Italy.  Disembarking  at  Salerno,  they  pro- 
cured horses  and  proceeded  to  Rome.  The  Pope 
received  them  in  the  Lateran,  descending  one  step 
on  the  dais  as  the  flower  of  the  chivalry  of  Chris- 
tendom advanced  from  among  his  knights  and 
sank  on  one  knee,  his  plumed  casque  bent  low. 

"Arise,  my  son,"  said  the  Pontiff  in  the  rich 
and  resonant  voice  before  which  so  proud  and  bold 
a  spirit  as  Barbarrosa  was  to  tremble  at  a  later 
day.  The  frail  waxen  hand  that  had  rested  on 
the  arm  of  the  chair  described  the  sign  of  the 
cross.  "May  the  blessing  of  our  Savior  rest  on 

15 


i6         THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


thee  and  thine.  In  the  name  of  the  Father,  Son 
and  Holy  Ghost  r 

Baldwin  straightened  the  bent  knee  and  faced 
the  Pope.    They  were  indeed  contrasted  types, 

these  two  men.  Alexander  of  Siena  was  in  the 
second  year  of  his  wonderful  pontificate.  There 
was  little  in  his  aspect  to  indicate  the  unflinching 
soul  and  bold  purpose  that  were  to  carry  him 
through  nineteen  years  of  bitter  conflict  and  high 
achievement  and  bend  the  most  darint?  and  power- 
ful of  worldly  princes  to  his  inflexible  >vill.  In  the 
pure  white  of  his  pontifical  raiment  he  seemed 
frail  and  delicate  as  a  snow  crystal.  His  pale, 
even  brow  and  the  tracery  of  his  features  were 
like  a  filmy  lace  of  exquisite  design  veiling  an  in- 
ward light. 

It  was  plain  that  the  churchman  looked  upon 

the  steel-clad  figure  standing  at  the  foot  of  his 
throne  with  more  than  a  little  interest  and  pleas- 
ure. Well  it  merited  close  attention.  Baldwin 
was  then  in  his  thirty-second  year,  and  Europe 
had  been  ringing  with  his  fame  since  the  second 
crusade  when  he,  a  stripling  of  sixteen,  rode  in 
the  battle  line  with  Conrad  of  Germany  and  Louis 
of  France.  Although  his  steel  harness  concealed 
the  lines  of  his  frame,  it  could  not  hide  the  splen- 
did vigor  of  the  still  youthful  veteran.  Arab 
suns  had  burned  to  a  nut  brown  that  portion  of 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


his  face  visible  under  his  raised  visor,  but  the 
quick-gleaming  eyes  were  the  old  Norse  blue,  and 
an  auburn  curl  matted  on  his  brow  suggested  as 
well  the  Northern  origin  of  his  race.  He  was 
garbed  as  beseemed  his  rank  and  reputation.  His 
visor  was  rich  in  gold  inlay  as  was  his  gorget, 
and  flashing  jewels  were  crusted  thick  on  the  hilt 
of  the  great  two-handled  blade  that  was  belted  to 
his  waist  and  trailed  out  behind  his  golden  spurs. 

•'Lance  of  Christ,  thou  hast  done  well,"  said 
Alexander,  resting  his  hand  again  upon  the  arm 
of  his  chair.  "What  tidings  do  you  bring  me  from 
the  frontier?  Is  it  well  with  the  Holy  Land?" 

"We  hold  our  own,"  the  soldier  answered  grim- 
ly. "Our  red  cross  still  flies  above  Jerusalem  and 
men  yet  give  to  me  the  title  with  which  they 
mocked  our  Lord,  the  Redeemer." 

Alexander's  eyes  were  shadowed.  "Less  the 
swords  of  the  infidels  than  the  greed  and  vanity 
of  Christian  princes  have  beset  you,"  he  said,  as 
he  descended  the  steps  and  laid  a  friendly  hand 
on  the  king's  shoulder.  "But  the  ways  of  God  are 
wonderful,"  he  added,  his  face  brightening. 
"While  the  dastards  waste  their  blood  and  their 
souls  in  selfish  and  brutal  conflict  among  them- 
selves, Godfrey's  successor  surpasses  Godfrey's 
deeds."  ^ 

"Nay,  burden  me  not  with  over-praise,  Holy 


1 8  THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


Father,"  protested  Baldwin.  "The  King  of  Jeru- 
salem is  gallantly  served.  Baldwin  is  proud  less 
of  his  own  prowess  than  of  the  good  swords  that 
strike  with  him  for  the  cross." 

"These  gentlemen  ?"  The  Pontiff's  glance 

swept  over  Baldwin's  shoulder  to  the  seven  knights 
clustered  a  few  feet  behind  him. 

"Aye,  they  are  of  the  bravest,  Holy  Father," 
the  king  replied. 

"And  who  is  bravest  of  all?"  Pope  Alexander 
asked,  his  eyes  smiling. 

King  Baldwin's  huge  laugh  rang  out  with  sud- 
den clamor  strange  in  that  cloistered  hall,  and 
the  clerics  in  their  black  robes  gazed  up  from 
their  parchments,  startled  as  if  some  rude  soldier 
had  struck  with  the  flat  of  his  blade  the  golden 
altar  bell.  "Ho,  gentles  1"  cried  the  monarch. 
"Answer  his  Holiness  for  me  1  Who  is  the  brav- 
est knight  in  all  the  world?" 

"Philip  of  Exeter  I"  came  the  instant  chorus 
from  half  a  dozen  throats  as  six  ringing  blades 
leaped  *rom  their  scabbards  and  met  point  to 
point  above  the  helmet  of  the  seventh  knight  of 
the  party  whose  hands  rose  and  fell  in  a  sweeping 
gesture  of  protest  and  deprecation. 

"Holy  Father,  see'st  thou  how  it  stands,'* 
laughed  the  king.  "Save  his  own,  there  is  no 
dissent.  Philip— our  Philip— is  bravest  of  all" 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  19 


Widi  a  glance  in  which  sudden  surprise  gave 

way  to  keen  interest  the  Pope  swept  the  protesting 
soldier.  There  was  little  to  be  seen  of  his  face 
in  the  mailed  hood  he  wore,  and  the  Pope  could 
gather  only  from  the  bulk  of  the  suit  of  armor 
that  it  encased  a  stalwart  frame.  As  the  Pope 
advanced  toward  him,  his  hand  upraised  in  bene> 
diction,  all  seven  of  the  knights  bent  the  knee,  and 
Philip's  bowed  face  became  altogether  hidden. 
Alexander  turned  again  to  the  monarch. 

"We  would  hear  r7iorc  of  this  Philip,"  he  said. 
"Meanwhile  may  we  tempt  thee  to  share  with 
us  the  meagre  evening  repast  of  a  poor  priest. 
Our  chamberlain  will  see  to  it  that  your  brave 
lances  suffer  no  hun^jcr,  indeed  they  shall  gain 
rather  than  lose  in  that  they  dine  not  with  the 
Pope.  There  are  matters  of  grave  moment  to 
be  discussed  between  us,  King  of  Jerusalem." 

In  the  plain  closet  of  the  Pope,  with  the  f^reat 
white  crucifix  for  its  only  wall  ornament,  Alex- 
ander and  Baldwin  sat  for  hours  discussing  plans 
for  the  future  security  of  the  Christian  kingdom 
in  the  Holy  Land.    And  at  last  the  Pope  said: 

"This  knight  you  call  the  bravest — what  has 
he  dune  that  he  should  wear  so  proud  a  title?" 

King  Baldwin's  eyes  warmed  with  affection  and 
he  answered  eagerly: 

"  'Tis  a  tale  we  of  Palestine  love  to  tell,  Holy 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


Father.  If  you  can  spare  the  hours  from 
rest  ?" 

The  Pope  nodded.  "With  a  good  heart,"  he 
said. 

The  king  raised  his  golden  goblet. 

"Here,"  he  cried,  "I  pledge  sweet  and  eternal 
rest  to  Jocelyn  de  Courtenay.  True  and  unfor- 
sworn  was  he  and  he  died  a  good  man's  death." 
He  drained  the  goblet. 

"Tocelynde  Courtenay's  daughter,"  he  resumed, 
after  a  pause,  "was  the  little  maiden  Isabelle, 
who  came  to  our  court  at  Jerusalem  at  the  age 
of  ten.  Sweet  bud  was  she  then  and  sweetly 
she  budded,  until  her  seventeenth  year  found  her 
in  all  her  beauty  and  my  knights  dubbed  her  the 
rose  of  Syria.  Many  a  lover,  brave  and  gentle, 
sued  her,  but  her  bright  spirit  inclined  to  none, 
and  not  the  most  gallant  might  wear  her  favor 
as  he  rode  in  the  lists  of  courtesy  or  the  red  field 
of  battle.  Yet  there  were  two  among  my  lances 
who  seemed  a  little  favored  above  the  rest.  Raoul 
de  Chantillon,  a  brave  boy  upon  whose  bright 
spirit  may  our  Lord  have  mercy,  was  one  of  these, 
and  Philip  of  Exeter  was  the  other.  Between 
these  two  the  contest  seemed  hardly  fair,  for 
Raoul  was  as  *  M  in  the  bower  as  upon  the  field 
and  Philip  was  ever  the  same  as  you  have  beheld 
this  day,  shy  as  a  child  under  beauty's  glances 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  21 


and  more  afraid  of  a  fresh-lipped  girl  than  of 
Noureddin  and  all  his  armed  array.  Yet,  among 
us  men,  was  he  the  better  loved  perhaps,  for  the 
vows  of  his  knighthood  were  ever  sacred  in  his 
eyes  and  he  has  a  gende  way  and  a  lion's  courage. 
VVherever  Cross  and  Crescent  have  clashed  and 
our  warcry,  *Dieu  li  volt!'  hath  risen  with  the  In- 
fidel's 'Allah  hul'  these  last  six  years,  Philip's 
sword  hath  carved  Philip's  fame  in  the  hearts  of 
the  Moslem  host.  Deadly  must  be  his  onset  whom 
Noureddin's  hosts  have  named  the  crimson  pesti- 
lence." 

The  Pope  nodded. 

"Philip,  who  fought  like  a  fire  blast,  loved 
timidly  like  a  wood-maiden.  If  he  and  Raoul 
were  with  Isabelle  in  the  hall  Raoul  would  be 
on  his  knees  beside  the  maiden's  spinnet,  but  Philip 
stood  afar  and  looked  his  love,  speaking  it  not. 

"The  Easter  will  mark  the  second  year  since 
some  business  with  the  Sheik  Beschara,  grown  too 
bold  for  Noureddin's  legiance  and  too  insolent 
for  my  dignity,  brought  us  riding  all  to  the  wil- 
derness east  of  Ascalon.  In  making  my  disposi- 
tions I  left  Raoul  in  command  at  Jerusalem.  It 
was  poor  judgment  in  me;  the  lad  was  too  hot,  too 
quick,  too  brave,  too  much  in  love.  Scarce  had 
we  vanished  from  the  sight  of  the  city  than  my 
lady  Isabelle  began  to  play  with  that  warm  high 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


heart.  What  caprice  it  was,  what  sudden  longing 
for  adventure,  suited  well  enough  to  the  spirit  but 
ill  to  the  sex  of  Jocelyn's  daughter,  I  do  not 
know,  but  the  pretty  eyes  brightened  and  the  pretty 
lips  pouted  and  we  were  all  for  Tyre,  all  to  ride 
the  road  and  greet  our  cousin  Imogene,  safe- 
castelled  there,  against  the  glad  day  of  our  Lord's 
arising.  Raoul  denied,  protested,  shook  his  head, 
looked  in  her  eyes— ah  well,  your  Holiness  wears 
a  white  shield  against  the  shafts  that  fly  from 
eyes  such  as  Isabelle's;  Raoul  wore  no  such  shield. 
Guy  de  St.  Treve  was  left  in  command  of  the 
garrison,  and  with  twenty  horsemen  they  sallied 

forth.  , 

"Two  days  to  the  north  they  were,  faring 
easily  on,  when  ill-fortune  whelmed  them  over. 
Ben  Ali  and  his  brothers,  three  hundred  strong, 
fell  upon  them.  Peter  the  bow-legged,  a  tough 
old  hammer-swinger  of  my  guard,  alone  escaped 
that  dire  melee.  Raoul  died— peace  be  his  guer- 
don and  blessed  his  memory — and  with  him  nine- 
teen stout  men  at  arms  upon  whom  God  have 
mercy,  sank  lifeless  under  that  whirl-blast  of 
desert  spears.  So  paid  he  for  his  folly,  poor  lad. 
It  was  long  afterward  that  Peter,  who  had  been 
left  for  dead  with  his  comrades,  made  his  way 
back  to  us,  and  from  him  we  heard  a  tale  of  valor 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


23 


that  makes  a  sr  Idler's  blood  leap— they  died  like 

men,  your  Holiness." 
"And  the  maiden?" 

"Spared  with  her  serving-woman  for  Ben  All's 
tent.  Such  black  news  for  Philip  of  Exeter  when, 
a  day  in  our  advance,  he  returned  to  the  city 
where  he  dreamed  his  love  lay  safe,  and  lovely. 
Nor  long  he  stayed  with  that  fresh  dagger  of 
pain  in  his  great  heart.  Two  chargers  he  took, 
lest  the  weight  of  one  rider  might  tire  a  single 
steed,  and  in  the  darkling  eve  he  shot  out  from 
the  Damascus  gate,  while  frightened  men  and 
women  marvelled  at  the  swiftness  of  his  flight 
until  hjB  vanished  and  left  on  the  quiet  air  the 
fading  echoes  of  the  high  thunder  of  hoof-beats. 

"The  Sultan  Malek  is  a  mighty  lord  and  lives 
in  high  estate.  Fair  is  his  city  seat,  Damascus, 
and  well-walled,  but  it  was  a  day  of  truce  bet\veen 
us  and  but  three  Mamelukes  stood  guard  at  the 
open  gate.  Well  might  they  shriek  'Sathani  1'  and 
raise  their  shields  when  they  saw  a  dread  ap- 
parition hurling  out  of  the  night.  Thrice  the 
sword  of  white  flame  rose  and  fell,  and  thrice 
the  death  shriek  rang,  and  Philip  thundered  on. 
Straight  as  a  clothyard  shaft  he  flew  until  the 
wide  gate  of  Noureddln's  palace  received  him 
in  its  flood  of  light,  for  the  Sultan  feasted  with 
his  nobles.   Now  he  sprang  from  his  steed,  and 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


strode  on,  his  blade  swinging  like  a  flail  beneath 
which  fell  the  massed  guard.  Over  the  heads 
of  the  guards  Malek  saw  the  lightning  flash  of 
the  great  sword,  as  he  sat  in  his  hall,  and  he  leaped 
to  his  feet  with  a  cry. 

"  'How  many?'  demanded  he,  his  scimitar  bare 
in  his  hand  and  his  nostrils  wide,  for  he  too  is  a 
warrior. 

"  *But  one,'  they  answered  him. 

"  'Then,  in  the  name  of  the  rophet,  give  way !' 
he  commanded.  'Will  ye  shame  me  in  the  eyes  of 
an  unbeliever?' 

"The  press  parted  and  Philip  strode  to  the 
dais. 

"'Sultan,'  he  said,  'I  am  Philip  of  Exeter, 
knight  of  the  cross.' 

"'Hal'  exclaimed  the  Sultan,  'you  knock  at 
my  door  with  more  vigor  than  courtesy,  but  with 
your  blade  in  your  hand  ycu  are  welcome.' 

"  'The  maiden,  Sultan  1'  demanded  Philip,  with 
no  waste  of  word.  'Surrender  her  to  me,  and  if 
her  eyes  meet  not  mine  when  we  are  face  to  face, 
though  I  cut  a  path  through  ten  thousand  to  thy 
heart,  thou  diest  the  death.' 

"  'Maiden?'  cried  Noureddin,  in  amazement. 
'What  maiden,  madman?' 

"Like  a  flame  Philip's  glance  shot  out  from 
beneath  his  lowered  visor  and  searched  the  Sul- 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  25 


tan's  soul.  What  it  found  there  was  truth.  There 
was  no  guilt  in  that  high  turbaned  face.  Philip's 
sword  fell  and  he  bent  his  crest. 

"  'Listen,  Emir,'  he  said,  'and  mark  well,  for 
my  words  must  be  brief.    I  have  come  with  the 
shedding  of  blood  and  done  discourtesy  to  you 
in  your  hall.  This  was  my  need:  the  maiden  Isa- 
belle,  whom  I  love,  was  taken  on  the  road  by 
Moslem  spears,  and  they  told  me  the  riders  who 
carried  her  off  were  thine.  I  know  now  thou  know- 
est  naught  of  this;  but  find  the  lady  I  must,  and 
with  speed  ere  harm  come  to  her.  Now  listen  to 
the  plea  of  a  knight  who  has  hitherto  begged  of  no 
man,  save  only  the  Lord  Jesus,  who  is  God — ^nay 
frown  not,  so  I  believe  and  in  good  time  shall 
offer  my  body  in  proof,  to  thee,  or  any  other  Mos- 
lem.   But  now  I  pray  thee  let  me  go  hence  on 
my  quest.   On  the  white  honor  of  a  knight,  and 
by  the  cross  I  now  kiss,  I  pledge  thee  that,  save 
in  this  adventure  which  I  must  pursue,  I  shall 
hold  myself  prisoner  of  thine,  and  submit  to  thy 
will  for  the  disco       y  I  have  presently  done.  At 
whatever  time  I         have  res^;  '  d  the  maid  and 
cut  the  foul  heart  trom  her  abductor  I  shall  come 
to  thee  and  hold  out  my  hand  for  thy  gyves.  How 
speakest  thou.  Sultan?' 

"Ah,  your  Holiness,  our  Lord  lost  a  gallant 


26  THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


soldier  when  the  generous  spirit  of  Nourcddin 

got  misplaced  in  a  Moslem  body. 

"  'Not  alone  shall  you  ride,  spirit  of  fire,'  he 
cried,  'but  brother  in  arms  to  you  in  this  affair 
shall  Malek  be.  This  is  Ben  Ali's  deed  and  though 
we  scour  the  desert  we  shall  take  his  head  for 
it.  Ho,  there,  my  steed  and  mail  1  And  see  to 
it,  Sidi  Ibrihim,  that  a  thousand  horsemen  are 
ready  for  the  road  within  the  hour.  Sons  of  the 
desert,  fleet  as  fire,  we  nee  1  for  the  work,  so 
titke  you  the  Sheik  Melchior's  squadron.' 

"His  lieutenant  fled  the  hall  to  execute  his  com- 
mand and  the  Sultan  laid  his  hand  on  Philip's 
shoulder. 

"  'Knight,'  he  said,  'I  have  many  a  spear  and 
they  lack  not  daring  but  I  envy  Jerusalem's  king 
the  clear  high  heart  that  shrinks  not  from  levelling 
his  lone  lance  against  the  guarded  master  of  a 
hundred  thousand  swords.  Now  when  did  this 
befall?' 

"  'But  three  days  since,  as  well  as  I  could  learn.' 

"  'Then  we  may  yet  be  in  time.  Ben  Ali  will 
for  his  desert  waste  beyond  Palmyra's  walls. 
There  he  fears  no  Christian  pursuit  and  will  travel 
at  leisure.  An  Arab  son  of  a  swine  is  he  who  has 
troubled  me  too  long.  Lay  aside  your  heavy  ar- 
mor, knight,  our  need  is  speed  when  we  hunt  Ben 

m: 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  27 


"Philip  stripped  off  his  iron  and  joined  Nour- 
eddin's  gathering  Arabs  clothed  in  leather.  A 
true  son  of  the  wind  was  the  mount  Malek  pro- 
vided, and  the  hour  had  not  gone  ere  they  were 
off,  sweeping  out  like  a  wild  snowstorm  of  the 
north  in  the  white  turbans  and  long  white  man- 
tles these  fleet  riders  wear.  They  overtook  the 
robber  sheik  in  the  desert,  and  as  was  meet, 
Philip  cleft  his  bearded  head  from  his  shoulders. 
Thanks  to  the  Mother  of  Saints,  the  maiden  had 
escaped  harm — she  and  her  serving-woman  were 
rescued  scatheless!  Noureddin  and  his  hosts  es- 
corted them  toward  our  towers ;  we  met  them  on 
the  road.  Then,  among  us  all,  Malek  told  me 
the  story  of  the  disturber  of  his  feast,  just  as  I 
have  told  it  to  your  Holiness.  Is  he  not  brave, 
Successor  of  Peter?" 

It  took  the  fierce  storms  of  after  years  to  prove 
how  high  a  spirit  glowed  in  Alexander's  deli- 
cate frame,  but  an  earnest  of  it  might  be  seen 
then  in  his  gleaming  eyes  as  he  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"Let  us  seek  him !"  he  cried. 

Together  they  strode  into  the  banquet  hall 
where  the  knights  sat  feasting.  They  had  doffed 
hauberk  and  casque,  and  the  Pope  might  now  see 
what  manner  of  man  was  this  Philip  of  Exeter. 
With  his  companions  he  had  risen  to  his  feet  as 
the  King  and  the  Pope  entered.  A  straight,  proud 


28  THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


body  he  had,  and  a  face  befitting.  Level  was  his 

brow,  frank  his  brown  eyes,  and  silken  the  brown 
curls  that  clustered  thick  on  his  poll.  The  high 
bridged  nose,  the  clean  mouth,  the  firm  chin,  all 
proclaimed  the  spirit  within. 

"Listen,  dear  son  I"  said  the  Pope  as  he  paused 
before  him  and  the  young  soldier  sank  on  his 
knees.  "It  pleases  Almighty  God  in  his  infinite 
wisdom  to  fill  the  veins  of  some  of  his  creatures 
with  blood  of  exceeding  virtue,  so  that  they  are 
like  unto  golden  chalices  filled  with  priceless  wine. 
When  once  he  opens  so  pure  a  fount  from  the  ce- 
lestial river  of  life,  it  flows  on  for  all  time,  mani- 
festing itself  in  hi^  deeds,  in  noble  thoughts,  in 
fruits  of  the  spirit  that  bless  this  poor  race  of 
man.  In  thee,  we  who  are  of  God*s  Holy  Church 
the  present  unworthy  head  on  earth,  recognize 
such  a  vessel  of  grace.  Thou  art  a  channel  of  the 
holy  stream.  So  guard  it  from  pollution  while  yet 
it  is  in  thy  trust  that  it  may  flow  unsullied  through 
thy  race.  Ever  it  will  work  its  miraculous  power 
in  the  same  manner,  nourishing  noble  thoughts, 
a  well-spring  of  generous  deeds.  Though  the  gen- 
erations be  countless,  still  will  it  show  its  virtue, 
still  will  it  bear  fruit  worthy  of  its  divine  author. 
Bequeath  it  to  thy  son.  And  to  the  eldest  there- 
of, bequeath  also  this  as  a  sign  and  a  token,  so 
that  it  may  descend  ever  to  the  eldest  son  of  thy 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


29 


house  and  mark  the  flow  of  the  pure  and  benef- 
icent stream." 

Alexander,  as  he  spoke,  took  from  the  bosom 
of  his  gown  a  silken  cord  at  the  end  of  which 
hung  a  gleaming  crystal  cut  in  the  form  of  the 
cross,  and  he  threw  the  looped  cord  over  the 
bowed  head.  Like  the  rich  peal  of  an  organ  his 
voice  rang  out: 

"Upon  thee  be  the  blessing  of  our  Father,  the 
Almighty  God,  and  His  Son,  the  gentle  and  brave 
Christ,  our  Savior,  and  "he  Holy  Ghost,  who  com- 
missioned us  through  the  Sainted  Peter;  upon 
thee,  bravest  of  the  brave  and  thy  son  and  thy 
son's  son,  forever  1" 


CHAPTER  I 


THE  DEAD  BRANCH 

Rising  an  l  fallin};,  ntful.  uncertain,  t^e  wood- 
fire  burned  before  the  tepee  ot  Pontiac.  A 
log  crackled  and  a  red  flame  danced  high,  Its 
sudden  flare  of  angry  light  bringing  out  of  the 
darkness  things  strange  and  vague — the  forest 
branches  bending  down,  the  open  flap  of  the  tent, 
and  tKe  two  figures,  seated  cross-legged,  one  at 
each  side  of  the  fire.  The  flame  danced  its  wild 
life  out  and  fell  and  the  forms  of  branch  and 
gnarled  trunk  vanished  back  into  the  shadow,  the 
red  ember  glow  showing  only  the  two  seated  fig- 
ures. One  of  them  rose,  glided  into  the  deep 
gloom,  and  reappeared  with  an  armful  of  fagots 
which  were  thrown  on  the  red  brands.  Again 
the  flames  leaped  up  and  the  figure  crouched  down. 
It  was  the  figure  of  an  Indian  woman. 

The  second  form  was  motionless  as  a  stone. 
The  blaze  when  brightest  showed  a  high,  hooked 
nose  and  a  towering  brow  whose  lofty  effect  was 
heightened  by  the  shaven  crown  and  the  single 

33 


34  THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 

scalp  lock  holding  the  eagle  feather  of  a  chief. 
Beneath  the  brow  gleamed  bold,  coal-black  eyes. 
In  the  teeth  of  this  stony  man  was  the  stem  of  a 
pipe  and  from  his  lips  the  smoke  clouds  came 
in  slow,  regular  puffs. 

"Ugh!"  grunted  the  chief  at  last.  The  glance 
of  his  crouching  squaw  was  lifted  for  a  second  to 
his  face,  but  it  sank  instantly  to  the  ground. 

"There  is  a  rocky  hill  that  juts  out  into  the 
big  water,  back  there,"  he  said  in  a  slow,  keen 
voice  that  cut  the  gloom  like  a  lash.  "It  rises, 
mighty,  facing  the  gale  and  not  afraid,  and  then- 
it  ends.  There  is  no  more  of  it.  It  should  be 
called  Pontiac." 

The  woman  stirred  uneasily  in  her  blanket. 

For  a  long  minute  the  chief  smoked  silently. 
Then  he  spoke  again. 

"Pontiac  is  a  mighty  war-chief.  He  is  the  kmg 
of  the  Ottawa  was.  His  belt  holds  many  scalps. 
His  tent  holds  no  sons." 

Although  the  night  was  warm  the  woman  shiv- 
ered. 

"Pontiac"  in  the  voice  was  cold  as  ice  and  sharp 
as  a  razor  edge — "Pontiac  is  a  son  of  many 
chiefs,  and  has  no  son.  He  owns  many  fertile 
fields,  but  a  barren  squaw.  He  has  a  great  name, 
but  it  must  die  with  Pontiac.  Pontiac  is  the 
father  of  six  tribes,  and  of  no  son." 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  35 


The  woman's  body  bent  forward  until  her  face 
touched  the  ground.  The  chief  slowly  rose,  stand- 
ing above  the  fire  with  his  red  bhi-  Uct  wrapped 
close  round  his  towering  form.  He  did  not  look 
at  the  crumplcil  s(]iiaw  at  his  moccasined  feet 
but  out  into  tlic  gl(;om. 

"Tomorrow  with  my  young  men  I  go  on  the 
hunt,"  he  said.  "The  rising  sun  will  see  us  on 
the  trail.  The  women  shall  take  the  canoes  and 
go  back  up  the  Mohawk  into  the  country  of  the 
Delawares  and  shall  wait  the  return  of  the  hunt- 
ing braves  at  the  West  end  of  Cayug^i  water, 
where  the  village  of  the  Delawares  shall  shelter 
them." 

He  turned  on  his  heel  and  strode  into  the  tent. 
The  squaw  did  not  stir,  but  lay  face  down,  while 
the  red  of  the  embers  dulled  and  faded  under  the 
gathering  ash.  The  night  hours  swept  over  her 
bowed  head  like  the  rushing,  silent  garments  of 
the  angel  of  death,  and  she  stirred  not.  The  edge 
of  the  coming  day,  pale  gray,  cold  green,  and 
faint  far  blue  shot  with  pearl  and  crimson  and 
gold,  pushed  up  over  the  east  and  the  camp  stirred 
with  life,  but  the  squaw  of  Pontiac  lay  as  might 
lie  one  whom  the  night  spirit  had  touched  in 
passing  and  left  forever  lifeless.  Only  when 
there  was  a  stirring  within  her  own  tent  did 
she  shudder  and  lift  her  tired  body.  Ouietly 


36         THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 

then  she  stood  up  and  gathered  fagots  and  ig- 
nited them.    The  other  fires  of  the  encampment 
were  already  crackling  and  the  odor  of  cooking 
venison  became  noticeable  on  the  mommg  air. 
Outanie  listlessly  hung  her  strips  of  deer  meat 
from  the  forked  sticks  above  the  blaze  she  had 
kindled,  and  when  the  meat  was  broiled  she 
placed  it  on  a  piece  of  bark  and  rak.  J  from  the 
embers  a  few  potatoes  which  she  had  roasted 
meanwhile.    These,  with  a  horn  of  water  from 
the  nearby  stream,  constituted  the  chief  s  break- 
fast which  he  ate  hurriedly  and  without  a  word 
to  the  slave  who  had  prepared  it.    She  watched 
him  stand  up  when  he  had  refreshed  himself,  and 
take  his  long  rifle  from  the  ground  upon  which 
he  had  laid  it.   The  other  braves  were  gathermg 
and  he  stalked  into  the  midst  of  them.  Other 
squaws  clustered  around,  chattering  and  gesticu- 
lating, but  Outanie  stood  beside  her  dying  fire, 
watching  from  afar.   At  last  the  ring  of  women 
folk  broke  and  the  braves  fell  into  line  behmd 
Pontiac,  who  glided  silently  =nto  the  forest.  With- 
in a  minute  they  had  all  vanished  and  the  women 
and  children  were  left  alone.    There  was  a  sud- 
den rush  for  the  chief's  tepee  and  a  hundred  ques- 
tions were  showered  upon  the  squaw  of  Pontiac. 

"Where  go  we,  Outanie?"  they  asked.  "When 
come  they  back?  Where  is  the  meeting  place?" 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  37 


"You  are  to  go  westward,"  answered  Outanie, 
"until  you  come  to  the  village  of  the  Delawares 
by  the  side  of  Cayuga  water.  There  will  the 
hunters  come  when  the  hunting  is  over." 

"And  you?    You,       tanie  Dead-Branch?" 

Outanie  answered  quietly : 

"I  go  elsewhere  on  business  of  my  lord.  A  few 
suns  only  shall  I  tarry,  and  then  I  shall  join  you 
at  the  village  of  the  Delawares." 

They  turned  from  her  for  the  work  of  dis- 
mantling the  litde  camp  and  packing  the  long 
canoes.  The  tent  poles  came  down,  the  raw- 
hide shelters  were  wrapped  round  them,  and  they 
were  carried  to  the  shore  and  stowed  away  in 
the  bottom  of  the  birchwood  barks.  Soon  the 
whole  party  was  embarked  and  the  paddles  be- 
gan to  beat  the  wide  stream  against  whose  flow 
the  rude  flotilla  made  head.  Outanie  watched  the 
gleaming  blades  as  they  dipped  in  the  water  or 
flashed  in  the  sun — watched  until  the  last  of  the 
canoes  was  lost  in  the  distance  and  she  was  alone 
by  the  bank.  There  was  a  bitter  smile  on  her 
full  and  sharply  curved  lips.  Although  no  longer 
youthful,  her  figure  was  slender  and  strong  and 
there  was  a  prideful  lift  to  the  brow  and  quiver 
to  the  nostrils  that  showed  the  true  beat  of  the 
blood  of  warriors  flowing  in  her  veins.  She  broke 
her  stony  pose  at  last  and  with  quick  skilful  fin- 


38  THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


gers  dismantled  her  tent,  and  stowed  it  in  lier 
canoe.  Before  she  stepped  into  tlic  boat  she  faced 
the  west,  staiuHiio;  very  still,  her  long  shadow  flung 
out  before  her  by  the  slant  of  the  morning  sun- 
beams. Slowly  and  with  eyes  still  fixed  on  the 
misty  blue  of  the  ribbon  of  sky  that  dipped  down 
between  the  green  wood  banks  to  kiss  the  shining 
water,  she  stepped  into  the  bark.  Her  hand 
reached  for  the  paddle,  and  with  a  dexterous 
swing  of  the  blade  she  shot  her  frail  vessel  out 
into  the  full  ilownward  flow  of  the  stream.  Then 
she  rested,  the  paddle  idle  in  her  hand,  while 
the  Mohawk's  flow  carried  her  east  and  south 
and  ever  farther  and  farther  from  the  lands  of 
her  own  people. 

Three  days  Outanic  journeyed  on  the  breast  of 
the  stream.  Her  rifle  found  her  food  among  the 
banks,  her  fish-line  too  was  put  to  use,  for  the 
squaw  of  ?ontiac  knew  the  ways  of  wood  and 
stream.  On  the  second  day  of  her  journey  a 
canoe  fleet  of  Mequas  intercepted  her  boat,  and 
their  chief  questioned  her. 

"Where  do  you  go,  squaw?"  he  demanded. 

Outanie  swept  her  hand  toward  the  east. 

"With  the  river,"  she  said. 

The  chief  scowled. 

"What  is  your  name  and  nation,  woman?"  he 
said  sternly. 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  39 


"Outanie  Dead-Branch,  a  daughter  of  the  Ot- 
tawawas." 

"Where  are  your  people?" 

"Hunting." 

"Ugh!   But  where?" 

"How  should  1  know  who  am  not  with  them." 

"You  talk  high  like  a  warrior,  woman,"  repri- 
manded the  Me(]ua,  a  note  of  anger  in  his  throat. 

During  the  colloquy  Outanie  had  regarded  him 
with  a  stony  face.  There  were  sullen  fires  in  her 
eyes.    She  did  not  deign  to  reply  to  his  rebuke. 

"Come,"  he  said.  "What  if  we  take  you  to 
be  a  squaw  to  one  of  our  braves?" 

Her  dull  burning  eyes  turned  from  the  speaker 
to  nis  companions  whom  she  examined  one  by 
one  with  deep  »;corn. 

"I  have  been  squaw  to  a  great  chief,"  she  said. 
"Would  you  wife  me  to  a  woman?" 

The  Mequa's  sinewy  arm  was  uplifted  and  the 
tomahawk  flashed  above  Outanie's  head.  For  the 
first  time  she  smiled,  looking  up  at  her  doom  like 
a  pleased  child.  But  before  the  weapon  coi  '  ' 
fall  its  sweep  w-as  arrested  and  the  wrist  of  its 
possessor  held  in  a  restraining  grip.  A  wrinkled 
and  hideously  painted  Indian  who  had  watched  in- 
tently  the  face  of  the  bvjuaw  had  shot  out  his 
hand  to  stay  the  deadly  hatchet. 

"Nay,"  he  said.    "Do  you  not  see  that  she  is 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


mad?  She  is  one  of  Mamtu's  witless  ones  and 
may  not  be  slain.    I  have  spoken." 

He  released  the  young  chief's  wrist  and  gath- 
ered his  blanket  round  him.  The  chief  slowly  let 
his  war-hatchet  fall  to  his  side.  Then  witho'it 
another  word  he  picked  up  his  paddle  and  drove 
his  canoe  up  the  river.  Silently  the  others  fol- 
lowed his  eyample.  The  look  of  joy  faded  out  of 
Outanie's  face,  leaving  only  the  bitter  mile  on 
her  lips.  She  continued  to  float  down  with  the 
tide. 

At  the  close  of  the  third  day's  voyage,  as  the 
ripples  of  the  river  were  dancing  red  and  gold 
under  the  westering  sun,  the  Ottawa wa  woman 
paddled  her  boat  in  close  to  the  river  bank,  and 
gazed  with  surprise  at  the  scene  which  greeted 
her  eyes.  The  forest  had  been  cleared  for  sev- 
eral acres  and  buildings  far  more  substantial  than 
any  she  had  ever  seen  had  been  erected  in  the 
clearing.  A  palisade  of  logs  five  ^eet  in  height 
surrounded  these  structures.  Her  own  people 
were  not  unaccustomed  to  the  erection  of  stock- 
ades for  the  protection  of  their  villages  and 
Outanie  rightly  conjectured  that  this  was  a  fort, 
but  she  marvelled  at  the  size  and  strength  of  these 
homes.  Then  the  truth  dawned  upon  her.  This 
must  be  a  fort  of  the  strange  people  of  whom  she 
had  heard  far  back  in  the  wilderness  but  had  never 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


41 


seen.  This  must  be  a  pale-face  settlement.  She 
hauled  her  canoe  out  of  the  water  and  hid  it 
among  the  bushes  that  grew  plentifully  on  the 
bank.  With  a  steady  step  she  approached  the 
gate  in  the  palisade.  Three  young  men  stood  at 
the  gate.  They  were  strangely  clothed  to  the 
eyes  of  Outanie,  and  they  spoke  to  her  words 
which  had  no  meaning  in  her  cars.  She  guessed, 
however,  that  they  asked  who  she  was  and  whence 
she  had  come,  so  she  pointed  to  the  west  and  ut- 
tered the  name  of  her  tribe,  "Ottawawa." 

"What  says  the  woman,  John  ?  You  speak  their 
gibberish?"  said  one  of  the  white  men,  addressing 
another  who  stood  leaning  against  the  wall. 

"She  is  an  Ottawawa,"  the  man  answered. 
"Woman,"  he  asked  in  the  tongue  of  the  Dela- 
wares,  "why  are  you  so  far  from  the  lands  of  the 
Ottawawas?  What  does  the  woman  of  the  Otta- 
wawas  want  among  the  pale-faces?" 

"I  am  Outanie  Dead-Branch,"  the  squaw  an- 
swered. "I  am  squaw  of  a  chief,  but  have  borne 
him  no  son.  Therefore  am  T  shamed  among  my 
own  people,  and  I  would  dwell  afar.  I  would 
dwell  among  ^hc  white  people  so  that  my  lord 
may  not  sec  mc  more." 

The  woodsman  translated  to  his  companions. 
"It  is  a  way  they  have,"  he  said  with  a  shrug. 
"The  poor  wretch  is  an  outcast.    I  would  let 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


her  stay,  master  burgomaster.  She  is  strong  and 
may  serve  you  as  interpreter,  and  she  will  cost 
the  settlement  nothing,  for  these  Indian  women 

know  how  to  find  their  own  food." 

Thus  Outanie  became  attached  to  the  setde- 
ment.  As  the  hunter  had  declared,  she  was  not 
a  drain  upon  the  frontier  log  camp,  and  she  soon 
picked  up  enough  English  to  make  her  useful  as 
an  interpreter. 

The  forty  families  composing  the  little  white 
community  were,  for  the  most  part,  Dutch,  al- 
though there  were  among  them  some  few  Eng- 
lishmen and  Frenchmen.  These  latter  were  the 
scouts  and  hunter;  •  the  Dutchmen  and  their  fam- 
ilies traded  with  the  Indians  and  cultivated  the 
cleared  fields. 

Summer  went  swiftly  from  the  land,  "^he  for- 
est put  on  its  autumn  finery  of  russet  and  scarlet 
and  gold.  The  winter  came  with  sudden  gusts 
of  snow-laden  gales  and  the  fires  smoked  under 
many  chimneys.  By  this  time  Outanie  had  become 
a  familiar  in  the  post.  She  proved  apt  in  learning 
the  household  ways  of  her  white  hosts.  And 
never  suffered  for  lack  of  substantial  shelter  dur- 
ing the  winter  months.  In  the  business  affairs  of 
the  settlement,  as  well  as  in  its  household  matt  " 
she  bore  a  useful  part.  When  the  snow  lay  deep 
on  the  floor  of  the  forest  and  the  ice  thick  and 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


43 


hard  upon  the  surface  of  the  water,  the  burgo- 
master  of  Amsterdam  found  this  hardy,  forcst- 
brcd  woman  a  swift  and  reliable  messenger  who 
could  track  miles  over  the  snow  upon  her  snow- 
shoes,  and  carry  correspondence  between  Am- 
sterdam and  neighboring  posts. 

Reluctantly,  the  winter  withdrew  at  last  into 
its  northern  fastnesses,  taking  its  shackles  of  ice 
off  the  rushing  waters  of  the  Mohawk.  Once 
more  the  farmers  went  out  to  plow  the  fields  and 
the  hunting  parties  who  had  wintered  at  Amster- 
dam prepared  for  their  spring  excursion  into  the 
wild.  From  one  of  these  hunters  Outanie  received 
a  trust  on  the  eve  of  his  departure. 

"Outanie,"  he  said,  "this,  my  wife,  shall  bear 
me  a  babe.  Be  you  at  her  side  and  nurse  her 
and  the  child  against  my  return.  Then  I  shall 
give  you  beads  and  wampum." 

The  Indian  woman's  eyes  brightened  for  an  in- 
stant, but  there  was  no  sign  of  deepened  interest 
on  her  impassive  features,  nor  was  there  a  change 
in  the  low  note  of  her  voice  as  she  answered: 

"They  shall  not  hunger  if  Outanie  can  find 
food.  They  shall  not  die  if  Outanie  can  keep 
them  alive.  Warrior  and  hunter  may  go  and 
fear  not;  Outanie  will  care  for  white  squaw." 

The  woodsman  smiled  with  satisfaction.  He 
was  less  troubled  in  mind,  faring  forth  into  the 


44         THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


forest,  now  that  he  knew  this  silent  and  competent 
woman  would  take  his  place  at  his  wife's  side. 

The  May  floods  were  roaring  through  the 
Mohawk's  channels  when  a  new  sou!  came  to 

Amsterdam.  It  was  boupht  with  its  equivalent. 
Despite  the  skilful  minist:  ons  of  Outanie,  the 
wife  of  the  hunter  died  on  the  night  of  her  baby's 
birth.  The  Indian  woman  bending  over  her  saw 
the  features  that  had  been  twisted  in  pain  relax 
to  that  semblance  of  the  peace  that  passeth  all 
understanding.  Quickly  she  put  iier  brown  hand 
on  the  White  breast.  Nothing  fluttered  beneath 
it.  Swiftly  she  bent  and  laid  her  brown  cheek 
against  the  red  lips.  No  breath  moistened  the 
cheek.  Then  she  stood  upright  and,  for  a  long 
time,  motionless  as  the  dead  woman  before  her, 
gazed  down  at  the  untroubled  countenance.  A 
thin,  wailing  cry  startled  her  from  her  reverie. 
She  swung  on  her  moccasined  heel  and  glanced 
at  the  child  lying  where  she  had  placed  it  at  its 
birth,  on  a  rough  crib  at  the  other  side  of  the 
room.  A  strange  smile  lighted  up  her  features. 
She  took  the  child  in  her  arms  and  removed  from 
its  neck  a  small  object  which  the  dying  mother 
had  placed  there.  This  she  thrust  into  the  bosom 
of  her  deerskin  shirt.  Wrapping  the  child  in  a 
blanket,  she  stepped  swiftly  and  silently  from  the 
room  and  out  into  the  night.    The  rude  streets 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  45 

of  the  village  were  deserted  and  all  the  houses  in 
darkness.  The  sky  overhead  was  cloudless  and 
moonless,  and  only  the  wan  light  of  the  stars 
showed  the  dim  outlines  of  the  settlement. 

Outanie  knew  there  would  be  a  guard  at  the 
gate,  so  she  crept  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  en- 
closure.  As  she  crept  close  to  the  wall  she  heard 
the  measured  step  of  an  approaching  sentry.  1  he 
soldier  advanced  steadily  until  he  was  directly  op- 
posite the  point  where  she  was  hidden.  I  le  went 
some  steps  beyond,  then  paused  as  if  hstenmg. 
'\  sound  had  reached  his  ears,  but  it  was  so  thm, 
so  faint,  so  short  that  he  concluded  that  his  fancy 
was  playing  him  tricks  and  resumed  his  lonely 

promenade.  „       •  i 

Outanie,  peering  over  the  wall,  waited  until 
he  had  disappeared  round  a  distant  salient.  Then 
she  clambered  over  the  logs  and,  with  the  white 
baby  pressed  close  to  her  heart,  broke  into  the 
swift  Indian  lope  which  soon  carried  her  into  the 
impenetrable  shadow  of  the  environing  forest. 
Once  in  the  woods'  recesses  she  paused  to  consider 
her  future  plan.    Her  canoe  lay  in  its  covert 
near  the  river  bank,  but  she  knew  it  would  be 
impossible  for  her  to  make  headway  against  the 
torrent.    Consequently,  she  decided  to  abandon 
her  boat.    She  procured  from  it,  however,  her 
riHe  and  a  piece  of  board.    With  her  hunting 


46         THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


knife  she  cut  a  square  of  deerskin  from  her  tent 
and  binding  it  to  the  board,  fashioned  a  rude 
conveyance  for  the  child.  This  she  strapped  to 
her  back,  and  having  thus  prepared  herself,  be- 
gan her  long  journey  toward  the  far  distant  lands 
of  the  Ottawawat. 


CHAPTER  II 


THE  LIVING  OAK 


It  was  the  month  of  corn  on  the  upper  Alle- 
gheny, where  lay  the  seat  of  Pontiac,  chief  of  the 
Ottawawas,  and  head  of  the  six  tribes.   The  vil- 
lage was  unusually  lar^e,  for  the  Ottawawas  were 
a  powerful  and  numerous  tribe.    The  stretch  of 
country  between  the  upper  Allegheny  and  Lake 
Erie  was  then  unbroken  territory,  as  far  as  the 
white  race  was  concerned.   The  nearest  tradmg 
post  of  the  pale-faces  lay  some  miles  to  the  south 
where  the  confluent  streams  of  the  Allegheny  and 
Monongahela  merged  into  the  mightier  flow  of  the 

Ohio.  .  , 

The  Indian  village  presented  an  ammated  scene 
on  this  morning  in  late  summer  time.  The  hunt- 
ing parties  had  come  in  after  prosperous  expedi- 
tions into  the  neighboring  haunts  of  game.  Deer 
meat  was  plentiful.  The  crops,  too,  had  pros- 
pered and  the  people  of  Pontiac  could  look  for- 
ward to  a  winter  whose  rigors  need  give  them  no 
dismay. 

47 


48  THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


Consequently  the  village  was  full  of  chattering 
squaws  and  romping,  naked  children,  dancing  and 
shouting  in  their  rude  games.  Before  the  door 
of  nearly  every  long  house  sat,  or  reclined  full 
length  upon  the  sod,  a  small  group  of  braves. 
Of  the  latter,  those  who  were  awake  puffed  con- 
tentedly upon  their  long  pipes.  The  others  slept 
peacefully  in  the  warm  sunshine. 

In  front  of  the  great  house  of  Pontiac  the 
chief  sat  alone.  A  deep,  vertical  furrow  cleft 
his  brow,  and  his  eyes  were  full  of  gloom.  Al- 
though the  stem  of  his  pipe  was  clenched  between 
his  teeth,  no  smoke  issued  from  his  lips.  For 
many  minutes  the  ashes  in  the  bowl  had  been 
cold.  Some  of  the  braves  strolling  by  noticed 
the  gloomy  aspect  of  their  chief  and  one  of  them 
slowly  shook  his  head. 

"Ugh !"  he  grunted.  "The  heart  of  Pontiac  is 
like  a  stone." 

Another  puffed  silently  a  few  seconds  before 
he  made  reply : 

"The  tent  of  the  great  chief  is  cold.  He 
mourns  the  lost  Outanie." 

Even  as  they  spoke  there  was  a  louder  note  in 
the  outcrying  of  the  children,  and  the  braves 
glanced  sharply  in  their  direction.  They  saw  a 
cluster  of  figures  at  the  forest  edge,  which  was 
rapidly  growing  larger  as  leaping  boys  and  run- 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  49 


ning  squaws  joined  it.  The  men  now  stood,  at- 
tentively surveying  this  excited  group.  It  burst 
asunder  at  last,  and  there  strode  out  of  the  heart 
of  it  a  tall,  lithe  squaw,  holding,  upHfted  in  her 
hands,  a  naked  papoose. 

With  the  women  and  children  trailing  behind 
her,  wildly  waving  their  arms  and  uttering  shrill 
cries  of  excitement  and  wonder,  the  squaw  made 
her  way  to  the  tent  in  front  of  which  sat  the 
silent  chief.  Before  him  she  paused.  Pontiac 
took  the  pipe  from  his  set  lips  and  glanced  up  at 
her. 

"Ugh!"  he  said. 

"Outanle  comes  back,"  cried  the  woman,  a  high 
note  of  pride  vibrating  In  her  voice.  "No  longer 
Outanle,  the  Dead-Branch,  but  Outanie,  the  Liv- 
ing Oak,  and  the  mother  of  a  prince.  Behold, 
great  chief,  the  son  of  Pontiac  1" 

She  bent  and  placed  the  child  upon  the  knees 
of  the  Indian.  Pontiac  looked  up  at  her  without 
change  of  expression.  The  only  visible  Indication 
of  what  was  passing  within  his  soul  was  the  fact 
that  he  puffed  slowly  twice  upon  his  smokeless 
pipe  before  he  spoke. 

"It  is  many  moons,"  he  said  at  last,  "since  Out- 
anie sat  by  Pontiac's  fire." 

Her  body  did  not  shrink  from  him.   She  held 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


herself  straight  and  proud  and  looked  level  into 
his  eyes. 

"The  great  chief,"  she  said,  "rebuked  his 
squaw.  The  great  chief  greatly  desired  a  son. 
He  said  nothing  of  a  woman  child.  How  was 
Outanie  to  know?" 

The  child  on  Pontiac's  knees  began  to  cry,  and 
he  took  the  little  form  into  his  sinewy  fingers  and 
thrust  it  up  before  her.  She  clasped  it  to  her 
breast  and  its  wailing  ceased. 

It  was  beneath  the  dignity  of  a  warrior  to  ques- 
tion his  squaw,  but  Outanie  knew  that  curiosity 
must  be  consuming  the  heart  of  the  chief,  so  she 
went  on. 

"Outanie  said  in  her  heart,  'My  lord  desires 
a  son.    If  there  come  to  him  a  daughter  of  the 
Ottawawas  the  heart  of  Pontiac  will  not  be  proud, 
but  bitter  with  grief.   So  I  shall  go  apart  from 
my  own  people  until  the  child  be  bom.    If  a 
woman  child,  then  shall  the  river  bear  us  away 
and  the  sight  of  Outanie  shall  not  offend  the  eyes 
of  Pontiac.    If  a  man  child,  then  shall  Outanie 
return  to  her  own  people  bearing  in  her  arms  as 
a  p'-ecious  gift  a  warrior  and  a  prince  of  Pontiac's 
line.'    So  Outanie  got  into  her  canoe  and  sailed 
eastward  and  southward  and  so  she  came  upon  a 
village  of  the  pale  faces  in  the  bend  of  the  river 
bank.  There  was  she  sheltered  through  the  snows, 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


51 


and  there  among  the  white  men  was  the  red  ch  Id 
born  in  the  third  moon  of  the  freshets.  Outa- 
nie's  strength  was  as  nothing  against  the  swollen 
river,  so  she  came  on  foot  through  the  forests. 
She  will  sit  hy  Pontiac's  fire  and^  reign  m  Pon- 
tiac's  long  house.    1  have  spoken." 

Her  thin  features,  her  attenuated  limbs,  and 
the  shreds  of  the  deer-skin  hunting  habit,  the 
tatters  of  her  leggins  and  moccasins,  all  bore 
mute  witness  of  the  hardships  she  had  undergone. 
No  notice  was  taken  of  these,  however.  Pont.ac 
merely  bowed  his  head  gravely  as  a  sign  ^hat  he 
was  satisfied  with  the  explanation  she  had  given. 
Pressin-  •     ''hild  to  her  heart  she  went  mto  his 

*^"ln  he       g  journey  from  the  banks  of  the  Mo- 
hawk to  the  lands  bordering  on  the  Great  Lakes, 
Outanie  had  indeed  endured   hardships  sur- 
mounted  obstacles,  and  faced  great  penis,  but  the 
harder  part  of  her  task  was  before  her.  bhe 
must,  year  in  and  year  out  until  her  own  life 
should  end,  keep  living  and  natural  this  he  she 
had  created.    She  must  watch  this  developing 
child  careful  to  renew  continually  the  turmeric 
stain  she  had  prepared  for  its  skin.    She  must 
look  out  for  strange  traits  of  ^haractcr  and 
instill  into  the  mind  and  spirit  of  the  child  the 
stern  Indian  virtues. 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


There  were  deep  anxieties  and  real  danglers  to 
be  faced  by  Outanie.  She  knew  that  the  punish- 
ment for  her  deception  would  be  death  and  a  dis- 
honored name  among  her  people,  should  the 
truth  ever  ue  revealed;  and  there  were  so  many 
ways  In  which  it  might  be  revealed.  But  few  of 
these  anxieties  pressed  upon  her  for  the  present. 
She  was  an  Indian  woman  living  in  the  day  that 
was,  and  heeding  little  the  promise  of  the  mor- 
row. 

The  child  was  called  Rushing  Water  in  the 
recollection  of  the  Mohawk  freshets.  Under  her 
care  lie  grew  in  strength  and  body.  She  had  pro- 
claimed that  a  miracle  attended  his  birth,  that 
the  great  spirit  had  come  to  her  in  a  d-ezm  and 
warned  her  to  practise  certain  rites  over  him  with 
the  rise  of  every  sun,  by  virtue  of  which  he  fore- 
told that  the  child  would  be  a  mighty  chief  and 
a  war  leader  of  many  nations.  Under  cover  of 
the  belief  thus  created,  she  repaired  each  morning 
to  the  forest  to  bathe  the  little  body  in  the  vege- 
table juice  which  she  used  to  stain  its  skin.  After 
the  first  year  had  gone  by  a  new  perplexity  came 
upon  her.  The  growing  locks  of  the  child  showed 
a  disposition  to  curl.  She  knew  that  the  hair  of 
all  her  people  was  straight.  Part  of  her  morn- 
ing's obligation  thereafter  was  to  grease  the  child's 
hair  with  bear's  fat  in  order  to  keep  it  from  curl- 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  53 


ing.  By  these  devices  she  made  her  fraud  suc- 
cessful and  Rushing  Water,  gaining  in  stature  and 
muscular  strength  with  each  succeeding  year,  as- 
sumed, as  by  right  of  birth,  a  leadership  over  the 
other  Indian  children.  He  was  easily  first  in  all 
their  games  requiring  skill  and  strength. 

In  these  days  another  anxiety  came  upon  Outa- 
nie.  There  were  games  at  which  Rushing  Water 
revolted,  although  they  were  a  source  of  great 
joy  to  his  youthful  companions.  The  plucking  of 
living  birds  was  one  of  these.  While  the  other 
red  children  shrieked  with  delight.  Rushing  Water 
scowled  and  turned  away  his  face.  His  first  dis- 
grace came,  however,  in  his  twelfth  year.  The 
Ottawawas  had  gone  on  the  warpath  against  one 
of  the  tribes  of  the  Iroquois  Republic.  Their 
war  party  returned  with  several  prisoners,  and 
as  these  bound  figures  were  dragged  into  the  vil- 
lage all  the  squaws  and  children  surrounded  them, 
chattering  with  pleasure  and  excitement.  Rush- 
ing Water,  his  eyes  alight,  ran  with  his  com- 
panions to  the  forest  edge  and  followed  in  the 
shouting  rabble  the  three  Seneca  braves. 

The  great  council  of  the  tribe  was  held  that 
evening  and  the  torture  and  death  decreed.  The 
next  morning  the  three  Indian  prisoners  met  their 
fate.  In  order  that  the  entertainment  might  be 
prolonged  they  suffered  one  by  one.    The  first 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


Seneca  bound  to  the  stake  regarded  his  tonnentors 
with  the  stoical  contempt  of  his  race,  and  let 
the  flames  from  the  fagots  lick  up  his  limbs  and 
body  without  a  cry  of  pain.  When  the  glazed 
eyeballs  and  drooping  head  announced  that  his 
agony  was  over,  there  was  a  cry  of  fierce  satis- 
faction from  the  braves  gathered  around,  mingled 
with  the  shriller  ejaculations  of  the  women  and 
children.  One  little  figure  alone  stood  motion- 
less in  that  crowd  of  savage  onlookers.  One  little 
face  was  sullen  ai.d  scowling.  One  pair  of  eyes, 
among  all  those  black  eyes  gleaming  with  satis- 
faction, was  wide  with  childish  horror. 

The  second  Seneca  was  of  weaker  fibre  than 
the  first.    Although  he  made  a  brave  effort  to 
face  his  fiery  fate  unmoved,  the  final  agony 
brought  a  low  whimper  from  his  lips  like  the 
whine  of  a  dog  with  a  broken  back.    It  struck  on 
the  ears  of  his  tormentors  as  a  note  of  sweetest 
music.    More  wild  and  shrill  even  than  the  howl 
of  delight  which  marked  the  death  of  his  prede- 
cessor at  the  stake,  was  the  yelp  of  the  braves, 
and  higher  was  the  joyous  shrieking  of  the  squaws 
and  children.    All  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the 
writhing  figure  bound  to  the  stake,  and  none  no- 
ticed little  Rushing  Water  with  his  face  buried  in 
his  hands. 

There  was  a  scarlet  cloud  hung  like  a  curtain 


i 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  55 

from  the  western  portal  through  which  the  day 

doomed  warrion.   He  wa.  .  ""H"'*'"' f 
Ln  of  his  race,  slender,  straight  and  strong  as 
r.aig,  w^ri^g  his  eagle  feather  proudly  and 
:.*^p^i„gn„  his  doom  with  a  grav..y  b^^«.r,g  h.. 

:::lVa"nV=^the^a^:^'b•.na  hi™,^e 
Sed  out  upon  them  with  a  high  contempt.  H.. 
lips  opened  and  his  voice  came  forth 
'^••dL  of  the  Lenapel"  he  addressed  them. 

A  ho'Sl  of  rage  interrupted  hi,n  and  more  *an 
one  brave  poised  his  tomahawk.  J""*^" 
cowled  at  these  impetuous  "lumbers  of  h«  tnb. 
and  stilled  the  uproar  w.th  h..  lifted  hand 

"Let  him  speak,"  he  said  sternly.     ShaU  Ae 
scolding  of  a  Seneca  woman  enrage  warriors 

"Dols  of  the  Lenape,"  the  Seneca  began  agam, 
without  even  looking  in  the  direction  of  the  Otta- 
Zawas-  chief,  "are  the  Ottawawa  - J'^^^^ 
of  death  that  they  have  to  be  bound  to  »  ' 
Do  they  drink  from  their  mothers'  breastt  the 
white  poison  that  makes  men's  souls  afr^d? 
Spare  the  good  deer  thongs;  the  Seneca  can  sttnd 
in  the  circle  of  flame."  j  -^.u 

Z  lcy  did  not  bind  him.  and  he  stood  w.th 


•56         THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 

his  back  against  the  upright,  gazing  out  upon 
them  with  serene  eyes. 

Ne-te-wa,  the  medicine  man  of  the  Ottawa- 
was,  advanced  with  his  flaming  pine  knot  and 
ignited  the  heap  of  fagots.  The  tongues  of  fire 
leaped  up  around  the  legs  and  loins  of  the  Sen- 
eca. The  circle  of  Ottawawas  gathered  around 
grew  silent  and  searched  his  face  for  some  sign 
of  weakness,  some  indication  of  his  suffering. 
There  was  none  there.  At  last  the  impatience  of 
the  torturers  broke  the  bonds  of  silence. 

"Do  you  not  suffer,  Seneca?"  they  asked. 
"Does  not  the  fire  feed  upon  you?" 

His  one  answer  was  to  break  into  a  low,  proud 
chant  full  of  the  glorification  of  his  own  people 
and  contempt  for  his  tormentors.  He  said,  while 
the  flames  gnawed  their  way  into  his  flesh: 

"The  Senecas  are  a  brave  people. 
They  breed  warriors  and  sagamores. 
Their  women  wait  upon  chiefs. 
Their  tents  are  hung  with  the  scalps  of  the  Ot- 
tawawas. 

The  Ottawawas  are  a  race  of  sick  men. 
They  have  no  speech,  they  snarl  like  dogs. 
Their  women  are  braver  than  their  men." 

Again  the  rage  of  the  Ottawawas  broke  bounds, 
and  again  their  voices  drowned  the  death  song 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  57 


of  the  Seneca.  The  captive  chief  began  to  laugh. 

"So,"  he  said,  "the  Ottawawas  do  not  even 
know  how  to  torture  a  captured  cnctny.  Would 
you  see  how  a  Seneca  can  die?  Then  fill  my  pipe 
with  tobacco  and  give  it  to  me." 

Pontiac,  who  had  watched  his  victim  with  nar- 
rowing eyjs,  gave  a  short,  sharp  command  to  one 
of  the  young  men.  This  buck,  picked  up  a  pipe 
full  of  tobacco  and  thrust  it  into  the  hands  of 
the  Seneca. 

Reaching  his  bare  hand  into  the  blazing  pile 
of  fagots,  the  captive  Indian  grasped  one  of  the 
red  brands  and  setting  the  pipe  in  his  mouth  light- 
ed the  tobacco  and  began  to  smoke.  Then  he 
stepped  forward  and  seated  himself,  cross-legged, 
into  the  fire.  From  his  lips  thef"  came  forth  an- 
other song. 

"In  the  land  of  the  Senecas  there  are  singing 
birds  that  sing  true. 

In  the  land  of  the  Ottawawas  the  men  are  sing- 
ing birds  that  lie. 

In  the  land  of  the  Senecas  the  hearts  of  war- 
riors are  of  oak. 

In  the  land  of  the  Ottawawas  the  hearts  of 
warriors  are  weeds  that  turn  to  water  when 
pressed." 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


Pontiac  strode  forward. 

"Peace,  Seneca  I"  he  commanded.  "Poittiac, 
chief  of  the  Ottawawas,  speaks.  The  Seneca  is 
a  brave  warrior.  Were  he  not  a  murd'  cr  of 
Pontiac's  people  and  spoiled  by  the  fire,  i'ontiac 
would  send  him  free  to  his  own  people.  But  he 
shall  suffer  no  more.  He  is  a  warrior,  and  here 
is  a  warrior's  death." 

As  he  spoke  he  swung  his  sinewy  arm  and 
drove  the  point  of  his  tomahawk  into  the  skull 
of  his  victim. 

Among  the  cries  with  which  his  people  greeted 
this  act  of  India?'  clemency,  there  was  one  Mraage 
sound.   It  was  UiC  sound  of  a  child  sobbing. 


CHAPTER  I 


THE  i-.\N  -  Oi  EATH 

In  the  bighf  of  one  of  numerous  winding* 
of  French  Crr  X  Pontia.  s  camp  was  pitched. 

The  tcp>  'S  had  i         1  in  a  clearing  of  ir- 

rcL'ular  outune  son      i  uiulred  yards  in 

d!   neter  on  the  cres.  <»'  i  sli^     eminence  which 
havi  kiU'cted  he  stream   rem  i^  course.  Heavy 
pinr    screened  t  from  observation.    The  slope 
ra     .>wn  h  m    tc  site     the  village  on  the  north- 
cfiy  -vide  to   n  ii\.n  ntation  in  the  river  hank,  vhich, 
with  its   U',i\y  fr     c       laurel,  afforded  .ri  ex- 
cellent    .  ert  fo   t     I      es  of  the  band.   On  the 
opposiu  side  a  sh       crail  wound  through  the 
pines  to  a  ford  beyond  which  was  a  portage  much 
used    y  the  Ottawawas.    Through  this  trail,  as 
the  «;  1  was  setting,  there  loped  into  the  village 
thr      braves  of  Pontiac's  tribe,  driving  before 
n  a  slender  Illinois  whose  arms  were  bound 
ind  him  at  wrists  and  elhovvs  with  thongs  of 
rskin.    The  captive  was  a  youth  scarcely  be- 
ond  boyhood,  but  the  three  dried  tufts  hanging 

59 


6o  THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


at  his  belt  indicated  that  he  had  attained  a  war- 
rior's rank. 

He  was  driven  directly  to  the  spot  where  Pon- 
tlac  sat  smoking,  the  curious  women  and  children 
rushing  from  all  directions  with  shrill  cries  of 
excitement,  and  the  warriors  slowly  and  with  dig- 
nity gathering  in  to  hear  the  story  of  his  capture 
and  learn  the  nature  of  his  doom.  Pontiac  with- 
drew his  pipe  from  his  lips  and  looked  up  at  the 
three  braves. 

"What  do  my  sons  bring  me  out  of  the  forest?" 
he  asked. 

The  oldest  of  the  three  hunters  answered : 

"A  tree-cat  whom  we  found  asleep,"  he  said. 

The  old  chief  bent  one  contemptuous  glance 
upon  the  young  Illinois. 

"Tree-cats  shouldn't  sleep  in  Pontiac's  empire," 
he  said. 

The  eyes  of  the  captive  met  those  of  the  old 
chief  without  faltering. 

"These,"  he  said,  with  a  glance  at  the  grim 
trophies  at  his  belt,  "are  flowers  that  the  Illinois 
gathered  in  Pontiac's  empire.  The  Illinois  war- 
rior has  a  liking  for  the  scalps  of  Ottawawa  dogs, 
80  he  came  into  Pontiac's  country  for  more." 

"He  has  not  paid  for  those  he  has  obtained 
already,"  said  Pontiac.    "His  own  scalp  is  too 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  6i 


cheap  a  price,  but  as  it  is  all  he  has  Pontiac*s 

women  shall  have  to  take  that  from  him." 

The  chief  turned  from  the  captive  to  the  hunt- 
ers. 

"Let  him  be  securely  bound,"  he  said,  "and 
kept  under  double  guard.  Let  no  meat  be  given 
him  and  no  drink.  Tomorrow  we  shall  turn  him 
over  to  the  women  and  children." 

A  loud  cry  of  delight  rose  from  the  assembled 
tribe.  The  Illinois  was  hurled  into  a  rudely  con- 
structed hut  and  Pontiac's  people  dispersed,  lit- 
tle groups  gathering  to  discuss  the  entertainment 
promised  for  the  morrow. 

The  fate  for  which  the  Illinois  had  been  re- 
served was  the  one  most  cunningly  devised  to  try 
the  fortitude  of  a  warrior.  Pontiac  had  decreed 
that  he  should  run  the  "lane  of  death,"  yet  there 
was  no  sign  of  fear  on  the  face  of  the  captive, 
who  sat  on  his  haunches  in  the  prison  cabin.  When 
the  shadows  fell  the  two  bucks  on  guard  in  front 
of  the  hut  lighted  a  fire,  and  the  rising  and  falling 
flame  threw  its  red  light  fitfully  on  that  proud 
countenance.  The  night  wore  on  hut  the  eyelids 
of  the  captive  never  drooped,  and  his  guards 
looking  in  from  time  to  time  could  catch  no  sign 
of  relaxation  on  the  set  features,  and  could  only 
meet  the  defiant  glare  of  the  wide  open  eyes. 

Silence  settled  on  the  camp  and  the  surround- 


62  THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


ing  forest.   A  slight  breeze  from  the  west  sighed 
through  the  tree-tops  and  bore  to  the  ears  of 
the  captive  and  the  two  sentinel  Ottawawas  the 
mournful  hoot  of  an  owl  crying  on  some  distant 
branch.    The  dark  hours  had  worn  on  slowly 
and  it  was  close  to  midnight  when  a  new  sound, 
slight  as  it  was,  caught  the  quick  ear  of  the  Illi- 
nois.   He  glanced  quickly  at  the  two  braves  in 
front  of  the  hut.   They  sat  like  stone  figures.  Be- 
hind him  a  slight  creaking  sound  continued.  Slowly 
altering  his  position  he  glanced  keenly  at  the  wall 
of  logs  behind  him.    One  of  the  timbers  moved 
slowly  up  and  then  i.iward.    For  a  few  minutes 
the  Illinois  was  uncertain  that  there  was  any  mo- 
tion and  that  it  was  not  the  changing  intensity 
of  the  .firelight  and  the  movement  of  shadows, 
due  to  its  variations,  that  had  deceived  his  sight; 
but  at  last  with  a  slight  crunching  sound  the  log 
bore  in.  At  the  same  time  a  soft  sound  came  from 
in  front  of  the  hut.    Swinging  quickly  on  his 
haunches  the  Illinois  faced  the  portal,  and  the 
guard,  who  had  stood  up  and  was  now  looking 
in  the  door,  met  only  the  glance  of  that  expres- 
sionless face. 

In  changing  his  position  the  Illinois  had  adroit- 
ly covered  with  his  body  the  protruding  log.  With 
a  fev/  gruff  words  the  Ottawawa  turned  and  went 
back  to  his  seat  by  the  fire.  A  long  period  of  ab- 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


63 


solute  quiet  succeeded.   The  Illinois  let  hi»  body 
recline  as  if  seeking  slumber.  He  had  felt  a  slight 
touch  on  his  shoulder.  As  he  now  faced  the  open- 
ing in  the  log  there  was  pressed  to  his  lips  a 
gourd  of  water,  held  in  a  hand  that  had  been 
thrust  in  through  the  opening.  The  captive  leaned 
forward  eagerly  and  drank  to  the  last  drop.  The 
gourd  was  withdrawn.    The  parched  throat  of 
the  Illinois  had  been  relieved,  and  he  listened 
intently  for  some  further  sound.    All  he  heard 
was  the  faint  swish  of  the  breeze  in  the  tree-tops 
and  the  mournful  note  of  the  distant  owl,  with 
an  occasional  murmur  from  the  two  figures  seated 
by  the  fire  in  front  of  his  cabin. 

At  last  there  was  another  pressure  on  his  arm 
and  something  was  held  up  to  his  mouth.  His 
keen  sense  of  smell  recognized  the  odor  of  dried 
deer  meat.  E'^geHy  the  captive  received  the  food, 
piece  by  piec  r  nally  his  hunger  was  satisfied 
and  the  hand  u   c  fed  him  was  withdrawn.  ^ 

At  the  door  the  warriors  on  guard  replenished 
their  fire  which  had  burned  low.  Looking  up  the 
captive  saw  the  new  moon  appear  over  a  tall  pine 
at  the  edge  of  the  clearing.  He  watched  it  while 
it  slowly  passed  across  the  restricted  field  of  his 
vision.  It  had  just  vanished  when  an  all  but  in- 
audible "Hist !"  from  behind  attracted  his  atten- 
tion.  As  he  turned  and  looked  through  the  aper- 


64  THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 

ture  he  saw  a  face  gazing  in  at  him    A  sudden 
upward  sweep  of  the  fire  outside  illunimated  it 
fully,  and  each  feature  seemed  to  burn  itself  into 
the  memory  of  the  Illinois. 

"Dream  face,"  the  young  warnor  murmured  to 

himself.  .... 

Cautiously  he  shifted  his  position  until  his  ear 
was  at  the  opening,  and  then  In  a  low,  clear  whis- 
per the  words  came  to  him:  "Tomorrow  you  run 
the  'lane  of  death.'  Let  my  friend  hsten.  Ihe 
tall  pine  at  the  edge  of  the  clearing  has  new  mark- 
ings,— one  large  one  above  a  smaller  one.  From 
that  tree  the  trail  leads  through  the  thicket.  Fol- 
low It.    There  is  a  canoe  at  the  ford." 

The  Illinois  nodded  his  head  to  indicate  that 
he  understood.  When  he  looked  again  for  the 
face  it  had  gone.  The  ear  of  the  Illinois  was 
tuned  for  the  slightest  sound  but  not  a  twig 
sna-ped.  Whoever  it  was  that  had  unexpectedly 
givin  him  food  and  drink  and  comfort,  dex- 
terously and  noiselessly  replaced  the  log  in  its 
former  position  and  withdrew  in  utter  silence. 

There  was  activity  among  the  tepees  at  dawn. 
Preparations  for  the  coming  entertainment  were 
soon  under  way.  Pine  torches  were  cut,  switches 
and  clubs  were  distributed  among  the  small  girls 
and  boys,  and  the  larger  boys  were  armed  with 
poles,  seven  or  eight  feet  long,  which  had  been 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  65 

sharpened  to  a  point  that  was  hardened  In  the 
flame.  Still  older  boys  were  given  tomahawks  and 
knives,  and  carefully  instructed  in  their  use  so  that 
they  might  cut  and  tear  but  strike  no  vllal  spot, 
until  the  victim  had  reached  the  end  of  the  lane. 
Then  they  were  to  fall  upon  him  and  make  an 

end.  .  .  , 

The  warriors  would  take  no  active  part  m  the 
torture.  Their  duty  would  simply  be  to  keep  the 
victim  in  the  lane  and  prevent  his  escape. 

The  noon  meal  had  been  eaten  when  one  of 
the  braves  assembled  the  women  and  children 
for  the  game.  The  borders  of  the  path  of  torture 
were  two  lines  of  women  and  youngsters.  They 
were  so  arranged  that  for  the  first  hundred  yards 
of  the  course  groups  of  women  and  younger  chil- 
dren alternated,  the  women  holding  pine  torches 
and  the  children  armed  with  sticks  and  clubs. 
Below  that  stood  the  older  boys  armed  with  their 
long  pointed  poles,  and  below  them  again  stood 
the  youths  just  below  the  warrior's  estate,  with 
their  knives  and  tomahawks.    A  double  row  of 
warriors  with  arms  folded  was  lined  outside  the 
active  participants  and  guarded  each  end  of  the 

course.  ,    •  u 

Rushing  Water  had  been  assigned  a  stand  witn 
the  older  boys,  although  he  was  now  only  in  his 
fourteenth  year.  Behind  him,  encroaching  upon  the 


66  THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 

clearing  like  a  leader  of  the  regimented  trees, 
stood  a  taU  pine  bearing  two  fresh  scars  on  its 
barlc> 

When  this  arrangement  had  been  perfected  a 
fire  was  lighted  and  the  women  were  directed  to 
ignite  their  torches  by  thrusting  them  mto  the 
flame.  They  did  this  and  resumed  their  places  m 
the  line.  Then  Pontiac  raised  his  hand  in  signal 
and  the  two  young  warriors  repaired  to  the  prison 
hut,  returning  with  the  Illinois. 

He  was  a  proud  boyish  figure  as  he  stood  at 
the  head  of  the  line,  his  arms  still  bound  but 
his  feet  free.   The  spectators  saw  him  raise  his 
eyes  and  l©©k  over  the  tops  of  the  trees  as  he 
noted  the  powtion  of      sun  in  the  heavens.  Then 
they  yelled  with  rage  as  he  coolly  and  contemptu- 
ously swept  his  eye  over  the  assembled  tribe.  A 
second  of  deep  silence  followed.    Then  Pontiac 
signalled  again  and  a  woman  standing  behind  the 
Illinois  thrust  her  burning  torch  in  between  his 
shoulder  blades.  At  the  same  instant  the  warriors 
who  held  him  by  the  arms,  cut  the  thongs  that 
bound  his  wrists  and  flung  him  forward. 

"Run,  cat  of  the  Illinois!"  they  said. 

Shrill  shrieks  rose  from  the  squaws  and  chil- 
dren, and  the  double  row  of  cruel  eager  faces  bent 
forward.   The  warriors  did  not  join  in  the  wild 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  67 


outcry  but  stood  with  their  arms  folded  in  con- 
temptuous silence. 

The  urging  to  speed  was  not  needed.   Like  a 
human  arrow  shot  from  the  bow  string  of  de- 
moniacal cruelty,  the  young  victim  began  his  race 
of  torture.   His  swift  glance  had  piciced  out  the 
"dream  face"  of  the  preceding  night  among  the 
tormentors,  and  there  was  hope  in  his  heart  not- 
withstanding the  burning  brands  that  were  thrust 
into  his  naked  flesh,  the  birchen  withes  that  cut 
into  his  shoulders,  and  the  pointed  spearlikc  poles 
that  were  thrust  into  his  body. 

Shriek  after  shriek  accompanied  the  blows 
rained  upon  him,  but  they  came  from  the  tor- 
mentors and  not  from  the  victim,  who  with  set 
features  and  pressed  lips,  and  limbs  that  only 
faltered  now  and  again  when  a  blow  from  a  heavy 
club  striking  on  his  skull  staggered  him  for  an 
instant,  continued  his  headlong  course  down  that 
narrow  pathway. 

He  already  could  see  at  the  end  of  it  the  older 
boys  with  their  naked  knives  and  uplifted  toma- 
hawks, and  behind  them  the  dark  figures  of  the 
massed  warriors  standing  with  folded  arms.  But 
his  quick  eye  had  picked  out  something  else.  On 
his  left  hand  as  he  ran,  there  was  one  little  gap 
in  the  line.  Like  a  snake  he  turned  as  he  reached 
it  and  sprang  through.    One  of  the  guarding 


68  THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


braves  on  the  outside  interposed,  but  the  Illi- 
nois' clenched  fist  landed  on  the  throat  of  the 
Ottawawa  with  terrific  force,  and  the  latter  meas- 
ured his  length  on  the  sod,  while  the  fugitixe 
sprang  like  a  cat  over  his  prostrate  body  an.l 
made  straight  for  the  notched  pine  at  the  edge  of 
the  clearing,  which  he  had  recognized  by  the 
glistening  white  of  the  fresh  wood  under  the 
broken  bark. 

Rushing  Water,  who  stood  near  the  point  at 
which  the  young  Illinois  turned,  had  hurled  his 
tomahawk  at  the  head  of  the  captive  but  he  now 
turned  in  quick  pursuit,  and  with  his  knife  in  his 
hand  was  the  first  to  reach  the  mouth  of  the  nar- 
row trail  down  which  the  Illinois  had  fled.  There 
was  a  deeper  note  now  in  the  uproar,  for  the  war- 
riors had  joined  their  hunting  yelp  to  the  hys- 
terical cries  of  the  women  '  nd  children.  Close 
at  the  heels  of  Rushing  W.i  :er  came  two  of  the 
most  noted  of  the  tribe's  younger  warriors, — 
Wolf  Tooth  and  Red  Rattiesnake,  and  behind 
them  streamed  the  whole  band  of  warriors  mad 
with  an  unsated  blood  thirst.   For  a  minute  Rush- 
ing Water  kept  close  to  the  heels  of  the  fleeing 
Illinois,  but  as  they  reached  the  narrowest  part 
of  the  trail,  the  boy  stumbled  and  fell  and  Wolf 
Tooth,  tripping  on  his  prostrate  body,  lurched 
headlong  to  the  earth.    Instantly  half  a  dozen 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


69 


headlong  warriors  heaped  themselves  upon  these 
two. 

The  first  to  extract  himself  was  young  Wolf 
Tooth  who,  although  his  ankle  had  been  spraincil, 
resumed  the  pursuit.   The  accident  had  saved  the 
fugitive,  however.    The  fact  that  the  Ottawawas 
had  laid  aside  their  rifles  and  were  armed  only 
with  their  tomahawks,  gave  him  an  added  ad- 
vantage. He  gained  the  ford  unharmed,  and  turn- 
ing  with  a  loud  whoop  of  deliance  shook  his  list 
at  his  advancing  pursuers.    An  instant  later  he 
had  seized  the  paddle  of  the  canoe  and  was  sweep- 
ing down  the  stream,  while  the  baffled  Ottawawas 
screeched  their  impotent  anger  from  the  bank. 


CHAPTER  IV 


THE  TRIAL 

Uttering  short  p:iiltural  cries  of  angry  disap- 
pointment, the  Ottawawa  warriors  surged  back  to 
the  brow  of  the  hill  where  their  chief  sat  await- 
ing their  return.  The  look  on  their  faces  and 
the  snarl  in  their  voices  apprised  him  that  they 
had  been  unsuccessful.  He  wasted  no  word  in 
question  but  his  long  arm  snapped  out  toward 
the  north,  the  index  finger  extended. 

"The  boats,  quick!"  he  commanded.  "Let  a 
dozen  of  the  swiftest  with  the  paddle  make  pur- 
suit.   You,  Wolf  Tooth,  shall  leadl" 

The  young  warrior  singled  out  hung  his  head. 

"Wolf  Tooth  is  lamed,"  he  said.  "He  scarce 
can  walk." 

"Then  ict  Rattlesnake  take  command,"  said 
Pontiac  quickly.    "But  speed,  my  sons,  speed!" 

In  a  Hash  the  dozen  braves  had  disappeared 
among  the  pines  and  soon  four  canoes  were  sweep- 
ing round  the  point  in  hot  pursuit.  Two  days 
passed  before  the  party  returned.    A  scout  re- 

70 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  71 

ported  their  approach  by  way  of  the  rivxr,  and, 
save  for  the  chief,  the  whole  tribe  gathered  at 
the  ford,  eager  for  news. 

Wolf  l  ooth,  whose  disability  had  gone,  hailed 
the  warriors  as  they  came  into  view.  They  made 
no  answer  but  paddling  up  to  the  ford  drove  the 
noses  of  their  canoes  on  the  bank. 

"He  was  not  captured,  then !"  cried  young  Wolt 
Tooth,  running  forward  to  greet  them. 

The  warriors  as  they  stepped  out  of  the  boats 
ignored  his  question,  and  with  solemn  faces  and 
silent  tongues,  fell  in  behind  Rattlesnake  and  pro- 
ceeded  up  the  trail  toward  Pontiac's  tepee,  the 
women  and  children  and  the  curious  warriors  who 
had  not  taken  part  in  the  pursuit  falling  in  be- 
hind.   Something  in  the  demeanor  of  the  return- 
ing  braves  had  impressed  even  the  smallest  chil- 
dren  and  it  was  a  silent  and  wondering  band  that 
trailed  along  behind  the  twelve  braves  of  Rattle- 
snake's party.   No  word  was  said  before  the  as- 
semblage paused  in  front  of  the  chief,  who  sat 
at  the  door  of  his  dwelling,  his  pipe  in  his  mouth. 

The  sun  was  low,  and  from  the  crimson  curtains 
draped  above  its  couch  the  red  glow  was  reflected 
on  the  faces  of  the  stem  men  who,  with  folded 
arms,  stood  confronting  the  great  Ottawawa 
leader.    Pontiac  surveyed  them  calmly. 

"The  Rattlesnake  has  no  fresh  scalp  at  his 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


belt,"  he  said  quietly,  his  coUl  voice  clashing  on 
the  silence  like  the  slither  of  a  rapier  blade  on 
opposing  steel. 

There  was  a  deep  intaking  of  breath  that  ran 
through  the  whole  tribe,  as  they  awaited  the  an- 
swer which  everyone  realized  would  be  porten- 
tous. 

"No  fresh  scalp  hangs  at  my  belt,"  the  Rattle- 
snake answered  sternly,  "but  my  heart  has  a 
heavy  word  for  the  ears  of  Pontiac." 

"Let  the  Rattlesnake  speak,"  said  the  chief. 

"The  Illinois  carries  the  skin  of  his  skull  un- 
broken because  the  Ottawawa  camp  holds  a 
traitor,"  said  the  young  warrior. 

The  hush  that  fell  upon  the  tribe  was  tense, 
oppressive.  Pontiac  slowly  raised  his  head  and 
his  glance  travelled  from  face  to  face  in  the  circle 
of  warriors  before  him  until  it  rested  upon  the 
countenance  of  Wolf  Tooth.  That  young  man, 
singled  out  for  protracted  scrutiny,  stirred  un- 
easily under  the  stern,  cold  gleam  from  his  chief's 
eyes.  He  cast  a  swift,  sidelong  glance  at  the  ac- 
cusing warrior,  and  then,  fixing  his  eyes  again  upon 
Pontiac,  folded  his  arms,  threw  up  his  chin,  and 
waited. 

"Can  the  Rattlesnake  name  the  traitor?"  the 
chief  asked.  "He  stands  before  you,"  responded 
the  Rattlesnake  immediately,  as  his  left  arm 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


73 


straightened  and  his  finger  pointed  at  Wolf  Tooth. 
"Let  the  great  chief  behold  the  traitor!" 

All  eyes  turneii  on  the  accused.    He  looked  at 
the  Rattlesnake  as  if  in  aina/ement. 

"Who  dares  use  such  a  word  to  mc?"  he  hissed, 
his  eyes  blazing. 

♦'1 1"  answered  the  Rattlesnake  sternly.     1  ac- 
cuse!" .  ^ 

"And  I  accuse  I"  echoed  a  warrioi  <it.i.Ki;ng  be- 
hind him. 

"And  I  accuse  1"  cried  ten  other  v  1  n\  suc- 
cession. 

A  wild  cry  swelling  deep  at  first  with  the  rage 
of  the  warriors  and  whining  away  in  the  wail  of 
the  woman,  greeted  this  twelve-fold  accusation. 
When  there  was  silence  again  Pontine  said: 

"Wolf  Tooth,  the  warrior,  stands  accuscl  by 
twelve  warriors  ol"  his  tribe.  There  shall  be  coun- 
cil and  trial.  Let  the  accused  be  bound,  and  let 
the  council  assemble  when  the  sun  is  midway  in 
the  west  on  the  morrow." 

He  slowly  rose  from  his  seat  and  went  into  his 
tent.  Wolf  Tooth  pcrni'ttcil  himsi  If  to  be  bound 
and  was  thrust  into  the  hut  which  had  sheltered 
the  Illinois. 

When  the  council  tire  was  lighted  on  the  fol- 
lowing afternoon,  it  was  a  grave  band  of  warriors 
and  sagamores  who  silently  seated  themselves 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


around  it.  Pontiac  sat  in  the  place  of  honor,  and 
at  his  side  were  the  older  men  of  the  tribe.  Within 
the  circle  stood  two  men,  one  of  them  the  ac- 
cused, Wolf  Tooth,  the  other  the  accuser,  Rattle- 
snake. A  totem  pole  had  been  set  in  front  of 
the  chief  and  before  this,  as  a  preliminary  to 
the  legal  proceedings,  a  medicine  mnn  made  in- 
cantation. When  his  voice  was  silent,  Pontiac 
signed  to  Rattlesnake  to  speak. 

"P'rom  noon  to  noon,"  said  the  young  prose- 
cutor, "we  followed  the  Illinois  down  the  stream, 
then  we  found  hidden  in  the  laurel  the  canoe  in 
which  he  had  escaped.  It  had  been  provisioned 
for  journey.    It  was  the  canoe  of  Wolf  Tooth." 

The  speaker's  tone  was  low  and  dispassionate. 
At  his  announcement,  a  deep  sigh  rang  through 
the  assemblage. 

••Now  let  Gray  Cloud  speak,"  he  said. 

One  of  the  dozen  braves  who  had  followed  the 
Rattlesnake  in  the  pursuit,  cast  off  his  blanket  and 
stood  up. 

•'The  landing  place  of  the  canoes  is  among  the 
laurel  at  the  north  of  the  camp.  The  day  before 
the  Illinois  warrior  escaped  Wolf  Tooth  moored 
his  canoe  at  the  ford  at  the  end  of  the  trail.  It 
was  evening  and  I  saw  him  put  the  bark  on  the 
beach  and  come  through  the  trees  to  the  village. 
Gray  Cloud  has  spoken." 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


75 


He  sat  down  and  wrapped  his  blanket  around 
him.  The  Rattlesnake  beckoned  to  another  war- 
rior. The  young  brave  indicated  rose  and  point- 
ing to  the  scarred  pine  tree  at  the  head  of  the 

trail,  said: 

"The  tree  that  shows  where  the  path  to  the 
ford  begins  is  twice  broken  in  the  bark.  The 
hatchet  of  Wolf  Tooth  cut  the  bark.  I  saw  him 
strike  the  tree  with  his  tomahawk.  I  have 
spoken." 

As  this  witness  resumed  his  place  in  the  circle, 
Rattlesnake  again  opened  his  lips. 

"Pontine  knows."  he  said,  "who  were  the 
guards  in  front  of  the  prison  house  in  which  the 
Illinois  was  kept.  Wolf  Tooth  was  one  of  these. 
I  was  the  other.  During  the  night  we  heard  a 
slight  noise  and  Wolf  Tooth  went  to  the  door 
and  inquired.  He  returned  and  told  me  it  was 
nothing  but  the  shifting  of  the  prisoner  on  the 
ground.  Pontine  knows  that  Wolf  Tooth  was 
stntioned  at  a  point  near  where  the  captive  broke 
from  the  line.  All  know  that  he  was  the  first  of 
the  warriors  to  reach  the  head  of  the  trail  in  pur- 
suit. All  know  that  he  fell  and  blocked  the  trnil, 
thus  giving  the  prisoner  time  to  gt  t  to  the  beach. 
All  kno.v  thnt  he  refused  the  leadership  of  the 
pursuing  party.  He  walks  all  right  now,  chief  of 
the  Ottnwnwnsl    What  say  you,  my  brothers  of 


76          THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


this  household?  An  enemy  of  our  tribe  who  has 
taken  the  scalps  of  our  people  is  brought  down  to 
our  village.  He  sleeps  under  the  guard  of  one 
who  speaks  to  him  privately.  He  is  allowed  to 
escape  through  the  weakness  of  a  warrior  of  this 
tribe.  He  speeds  straight  for  the  hidden  trail, 
guided  by  the  scars  on  the  pine  which  the  same 
warrior  had  cut  with  his  tomahawk.  The  pursuit 
is  impeded  by  the  same  warrior.  Bidden  to  hunt 
and  to  capture  the  same  warrior  pleads  injury. 
At  the  foot  of  the  trail  the  captive  finds  the  canoe 
of  this  warrior,  provisioned  for  his  needs,  which, 
contrary  to  the  custom  of  our  people,  this  same 
warrior  had  moored  without  cover.  The  name  of 
this  warrior  is  Wolf  Tooth  1  Brothers,  I  demand 
judgment  1" 

Rattlesnake  paused,  folded  his  arms  on  his 
broad  chest,  and  waited.  There  was  a  stir  among 
the  seated  warriors  and  a  shifting  of  glances  to 
the  accused  brave  who  had  risen  to  his  feet  and 
now  stood  facing  Pontiac.  His  was  a  striking  and 
not  unpleasing  figure.  His  reputation  as  a  war- 
rior was  high,  and  the  old  sagamores  had  looked 
upon  him  as  a  brave  of  much  promise.  Something 
of  the  spirit  that  had  won  for  him  such  hkg^  re- 
gard stiffened  now  his  young  frame  and  gave  an 
upward  rih  to  liis  sharp  chin.  All  bent  forward 
eagerly  for  his  words. 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  77 


"Let  Wolf  Tooth  speak  1"  said  Pontlac  gravely. 

"Wolf  Tooth  is  no  traitor,"  bcj^an  the  accused. 
"Wolf  Tooth  is  a  warrior.  He  is  not  a  child,  he 
has  six  times  uttered  the  scalp  yell.  One  day  Wolf 
Tooth  went  to  hunt.  He  had  seen  the  trail  of  a 
huge  bear  in  the  woods,  but  it  was  a  trail  three 
days  old,  and  bent  westward  along  the  bank  of 
the  stream.  So  he  stacked  his  canoe  and  set  forth. 
But  the  bear  had  turned  on  his  tracks  and  in  the 
hour  of  the  short  shadows  I  met  him.  My  shoot- 
ing stick  spoke  a  lie,  and  I  had  to  use  knife  and 
hatchet.  It  was  a  good  fight,  Great  Chief — ^there 
are  marks  of  it  here  and  there." 

He  held  out  a  scarred  arm  and,  tearing  away 
his  shirt,  revealed  a  healing  wound  on  his  breast. 
Pontiac  nodded. 

"If  the  Rattlesnake  lies  not,"  resumed  the 
young  brave,  "he  will  say  there  was  a  dead  bear  in 
my  boat." 

"It  is  true,"  admitted  the  accuser  from  his 
seat. 

"So  I  returned  with  rtiy  boat  still  |'ro\  isioncti," 
Wolf  l  ooth  proceeded.  "I  was  weaned,  and  left 
the  canoe  at  the  ford,  intending  to  unload  it  when 
I  had  rested.  As  I  passed  the  chief  pine,  I 
thought  how  I  had  crushed  in  the  skull  of  the 
bear  with  my  tomahawk  and  wondered  if  it  still 
held  its  e^e.   Twice  I  tried  it  on  the  tree  bark. 


78 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


That  night  Pontiac  commanded  me  to  watch  with 
Rattlesnake  at  the  door  of  the  prisoner.  The 
next  day  we  were  making  ready  for  the  torture. 
I  had  not  slept,  Great  Chief,  I  was  weary  with 
wounds:  was  it  strange  that  I  forgot  my  boat? 
When  the  Illinois  broke  the  line  Rushing  Water 
led  the  pursuit.  In  the  neck  of  the  trail  the  boy 
fell;  I  was  close  behind  and  tripped  on  his  body. 
When  T  regained  my  feet  my  ankle  would  not  bear 
my  weight.  So  I  refused  the  leadership  of  the 
pursuing  party  because  I  knew  the  fugitive  was 
swift,  and  the  pursuers  must  be  even  more  swift. 
This  is  not  the  voice  of  the  singing  bird,  but  the 
thing  that  is  true,  my  brothers." 

He  folded  his  arms  and  waited  judgment,  his 
glance  roving  from  one  stern  inscrutable  face  to 
another  all  round  that  grim  circle,  liis  chin  sank 
on  his  chest. 

Pontiac,  without  rising,  turned  to  the  first  figure 
at  his  left. 

"What  says  my  brother?"  he  asked,  gravely. 
"Speaks  Wolf  Tooth  truth?" 

"He  lies,"  replied  the  Indian  addressed,  shortly. 

"What  says  my  brother?"  Pontiac  repeated, 
turning  to  the  next. 

"Wolf  Tooth  lies,"  the  man  answered. 

So  the  poll  proceeded  according  to  the  ancient 
tribal  form.  The  warriors  wa^d  no  words ;  their 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  79 


answers  were  short.  Each  of  them  in  turn  heard 
the  chief's  question,  "What  says  my  brother?"  arul 
each  of  them  answered  It.  Two  voices  only  spoke 
for  the  accused.   They  were  both  young  braves. 

One  said: 

"Wolf  Tooth  slew  the  bear.  Brave  men  do 
not  lie." 

The  other  answered  simply: 

•The  words  of  Wolf  Tooth  are  true." 

As  the  weight  of  the  verdict  against  him  be- 
came more  and  more  apparent,  the  young  war- 
rior's head  bent  lower  and  lower. 

The  shame  put  upon  him  seemed  to  how  him 
down  like  a  heavy  burden.  Only  when  the  last 
vote  was  given  and  a  low  moan  broke  from  the 
women,  did  he  look  up.  Pontiac  had  stood  up 
to  pronounce  judgment  and  doom,  and  the  Hfta- 
jesty  of  a  great  chief  sat  on  his  bold,  hi#i  hr&w. 

"Wolf  Tooth,"  he  thundered  in  a  terrible  voice, 
"the  name  men  give  you  is  well  chosen.  The  fang 
of  the  wolf  tears  the  wolf's  throat.  You  are 
condemned  by  your  tribe.  Make  ready  for  the 
stake,  for  you  die  by  the  fire." 

A  wailing  sound  swept  over  the  assembled  tribe. 
It  was  cut  short  by  a  gasp  of  surprise.  An  agile, 
boyish  figure  had  leaped  over  the  shoulder  of  a 
sitting  brave  and  advanced  into  the  circle.  Pon- 


8o  THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


tiac  in  surprise  looked  clown  into  the  face  of  Rush- 
ing Water. 

"What  means  this?"  he  sternly  demanded.  "Is 
it  thus  a  lad  should  break  in  upon  a  council?" 

"The  tribe  coiulemns  unjustly,  oh  chief,  my 
father!"  he  cried.  "It  was  not  Wolf  Tooth  who 
gave  aid  to  the  Illinois  warrior." 

"I  la  !"  exclaimed  Pontiac.    "Who,  then?" 

"Rushing  Water,"  answered  the  lad.  "When 
the  doom  of  the  Illinois  was  said,  Manitu  spoke 
in  the  heart  of  Rushing  Water.  The  voice  in  his 
lioari  said,  'Help  the  brave  young  warrior.'  Rush- 
ing Water  obeyed.  He  had  seen  Wolf  Tooth 
moor  his  canoe.  He  had  seen  the  marks  on  the 
king  pine's  coat.  He  pointed  the  way  of  escape 
to  the  captive,  for  so  Manitu  spoke  in  his  heart." 

The  shock  of  the  revelation  held  the  tribe  spell- 
bound. Pontiac  shivered  as  if  an  icy  wind  had 
pierced  to  his  marrow.  His  face  was  gray.  A 
l\)W  cry  of  anger  was  breakinix  out  from  the  tribe, 
but  the  uplifted  hand  of  the  chief  stilled  it. 

"Pontiac  longed  tcr  a  son,"  he  said  in  a  dull, 
broken  voice.  "Manitu  sent  Rushir^-  Water,  the 
only  issue  of  a  chief.  But  justice  shall  be  done. 
The  traito-  dies  whoever  he  may  be.  In  place  of 
Wolf  Tooth,  Pontiac  shall  put  his  own  heart  in 
the  flames.    Bind  the  boy!" 

A  shriek,  loud,  piercing,  repeated,  and  rising, 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  8i 


more  shrill,  with  each  repetition,  broke  the  silence 
as  Outanie  tore  through  the  crowd  and  flung  her 
arms  round  the  boy. 

"You  shall  not!"  she  screamed,  her  features 
fierce  and  her  eyes  flaming.  "Beware  ol'  the  blast- 
ing curse  of  the  Great  Spirit  if  you  lay  a  hand  on 
his  chosen  one!" 

With  his  great  clenched  fist  upraised,  Pontiac 
advanced  a  step,  but  before  he  could  strike,  the 
\ oice  of  Icktoosh,  the  old  medicine  man,  arrested 
his  arm. 

"The  squaw  speaks  truth,  Pontiac!"  lie  said. 
"Hold  thy  hand — the  word  of  Manitu  must  be 
obeyed.  The  lad  did  but  what  he  was  bidden  by 
the  chief  of  the  thunder  clouds.  Invoke  not  the 
anger  of  the  Flaming  Spear,  King  of  the  Otta- 
wawas !" 

A  second  Pontiac  stood  undecided;  then  he 
turned  and  strode  to  his  tepee.  With  the  excited 
chatter  of  women  ?nd  the  guttural  exclamations 
of  the  braves,  the  assemblage  broke  up.  Wolf 
Tooth  bent  down  and  gently  stroked  the  shoulder 
of  the  boy,  who  lay  soling  on  the  heaving  breast 
of  Outanie. 


CHAPTER  V 


RED  AND  WHITE 

Outanie's  '"i  '  rt  of  the  supernatural  Influences 
directing  the  destiny  of  her  son, — a  report  often 
repeated  and  much  exaggerated  as  the  years  went 
by— invested  Fushing  Water  with  a  mysterious 
interest,  not  only  to  the  people  of  his  own  tribe 
but  to  those  of  distant  nations  who  had  heard 
die  marvelous  tale. 

It  served  a  double  purpose  for  Outanie.  In 
the  first  place  it  cloaked  under  the  veil  of  a  sacred 
ritual  the  physical  treatment  of  her  son  whereby 
she  kept  his  skin  brown  and  his  hair  straight. 
The  tumeric  stain  was  easily  obtained,  the  woods 
being  full  of  this  wiUl  weed,  whose  distilled  sap 
at  the  same  time  prodaccil  the  color  effect  she  de- 
sired, and,  because  ot  its  vegetable  nature,  did 
not  injure  the  skin  to  which  it  was  applied. 
prepared  a  great  quantity  of  this  stain,  for  Ae 
feared  that  there  might  come  a  time  when  it  would 
be  impossible  for  her  to  procure  the  growA 
that  yielded  it. 

82 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  83 

As  the  boy  grew  older  his  natural  curiosity  as 
to  the  reason  for  the  mysterious  rites  she  practised 
upon  him,  demanded  an  explanation  from  Outanie. 

"Outanie,  mother,"  said  the  little  fellow  one 
morning,  "why  do  you  bathe  me  in  the  dark 
water?" 

The  squaw  hesitated  a  moment. 

"Listen,  Rushing  Water,"  she  said  at  last,  "this 
is  my  reason :  When  you  are  grown  to  your  full 
stature  and  go  forth  with  braves  to  war,  you  are 
to  be  a  great  chieftain.  There  in  the  east"— she 
extended  her  right  hand  toward  where  the  sun 
was  reddening  the  horizon— "and  there  to  the 
north"— and  her  left  hand  swept  out  toward  the 
gre«t  fakes— "there  dwell  a  strange  people.  Of 
two  tribes  they  are.    Their  skin  is  not  the  skin 
of  the  red  mm  but  is  like  the  white  bark  of  the 
silver  birch.   They  are  hungry  for  land.  Already 
they  have  taken  the  lands  of  the  Lenape  m  the 
north  and  have  driven  many  nations  of  the  red 
people  frOTi  the  shores  of  the  great  waters.  Un- 
less  a  great  warrior  arise  to  lead  the  red  race 
against  the  white,  they  will  rob  us  of  our  hunting 
grounds  and  leave  no  place  on  the  earth  for  our 
home.     The  great  spirit  has  chosen  Rushmg 
Water  as  the  leader  who  is  to  save  his  own  peo- 
ple.   He  said  to  Outaaie  diat  while  Rushing 
Water  is  a  child,  Ortanie  shall  bathe  him  daily 


84  lliE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 

in  this  dark  liquor  which  is  to  make  him  strong 
in  body  and  brave  in  heart.  He  has  v.iul  that 
when  Rushing  Water  grows  into  boyhood,  he 
shall  bathe  himself  as  Outanie  has  bathed  him, 
and  shall  anoint  his  head  daily  with  the  stained 
bear  grease.  I£  Rushing  Water  shall  ever  neglect 
to  perform  these  rites,  then  his  skin  shall  b  each 
to  the  likeness  of  the  white  people  and  h.s  heart 
shall  shrivel  within  him,  and  a  great  affliction  ot 
body  shall  come  upon  him  and  he  ^^l^jl^J'^'. 
he  shall  have  disobeyed  the  words  of  Manitu. 

She  showed  him  how  to  prepare  the  hquor 
and  how  to  stain  and  apply  the  bear  grease  to  his 

hair.  ,  •  .  u 

But  there  was  another  way  m  which  the  super- 
stitu.uG  feeling  of  the  Indians  with  respect  to 
Rushing  Water  protected  Outame  from  the  dis- 
covery of  her  great  deception.    From  his  infancy 
the  boy  was  looked  upon  as  one  set  apart  for  a 
great  task.    Traits  of  character  strange  m  his 
people,  which  would  have  exposed  him  to  pun- 
ishment and  contempt  otherwise,  were  regarded 
with  more  toleration  and  less  wonder  when  they 
manifest 'd  themselves  in  the  chosen  of  the  In- 
dian's God.    The  boy  had  been  sternly  repri- 
manded by  his  elders  for  an  outbreak  of  tears 
occasioned  by  the  killing  of  the  Senecas,  but  soon 
his  natural  distaste  for  cruelty  ceased  to  exc  te 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  85 


wonder  and  to  provoke  reprobation.    Indeed,  as 
his  Ixuly  len^nhuicd  and  toughened,  he  showed 
signs  of  a  temper  to  resent  the  one  and  the  other. 
In  all  the  athletic  exercises  he  excelled  the  boys 
of  the  Ottawawa  village.    In  the  ft)ot  races  he 
was  as  fleet  as  the  wind,  and  none  other  could 
match  him.    He  soon  became  so  strong  and  agile 
a  wrestler  that  when  he  was  fifteen,  few  among 
the  braves  of  his  tribe  ventured  to  try  conclusions 
with  him.  His  eye  was  steady  and  keen,  his  aim 
true,  his  skill  with  the  tomahawk  or  javelin  amaz- 
ing.   The  thrust  of  his  paddle  drove  his  canoe 
with  a  speed  not  excelled  by  that  of  any  of  the 
Indians. 

If  in  woodcraft  and  their  own  games  and  oc- 
cupations Kushmg  Water  was  thoroughly  an  In- 
dian, he  was  in  other  respects  a  prodigy  and  a 
wonder  among  the  wild  people.   I  le  had  none  of 
the  taciturnity  of  his  companions,  but  spoke  his 
mind  with  the  greatest  freedom.    Instead  of  the 
characteristic  grunt  of  satisfaction  of  the  Otta- 
wawa brave,  his  laughter  rang  out  in  the  forest 
free  as  a  bird  and  merry  as  a  peal  of  bells.  He 
was  passionately  devoted  to  Outanie,  whose  labors 
he  lightened  at  every  opportunity.    If  the  squaw, 
now  growing  aged,  were  grinding  the  lorn.  Rush- 
ing Water  w-  uh'  fling  away  from  the  other  boys 
engaged  in  their  play,  dispossess  his  mother  with 


MICROCOPY  tESOUJTION  TEST  CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


86  THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


rough  affection  from  her  seat  in  front  of  the  long 
house,  and  forcibly  take  from  her  the  grinding 
stones.  If  she  went  forth  into  the  woods  to  gather 
dried  branches  for  the  fire,  he  met  her  on  the  path 
and  took  from  her  shoulders  the  heavy  bundle  of 
fagots. 

His  first  performance  of  this  kind  which  at- 
tracted the  attention  of  his  companions  drew  forth 
from  them  a  howl  of  derision.  They  gathered 
around  him  to  watch  him  grind  the  corn.  At  last 
the  sight  of  the  youth  engaged  in  this  degrading 
occupation  excited  them  to  taunts.  The  boldest 
of  them  began  to  cry  out  upon  him. 

"Squaw  girl,"  said  one,  "yo"  not  have  a 
rifle  but  shall  sit  with  the  women  when  the  men 
go  forth  to  war." 

As  the  boy  worked  steadily  on  others  were 
emboldened  to  follow  the  example  of  the  first 
of  his  tormenters.  At  last  a  cold  and  dangerous 
gleam  came  into  the  dark  brown  eyes  of  Rush- 
ing Water  and  slowly  and  deliberately  he  laid 
down  his  grinding  stones.  Then  with  the  spring 
of  a  tiger  he  flung  himself  at  the  throat  of  the 
oldest  of  those  who  surrounded  him.  This  lad, 
a  young  giant  of  seventeen,  struggled  for  a  sec- 
ond in  the  grasp  of  the  young  chief,  but  Rush- 
ing Water  bore  him  to  the  ground  and  pounded 
his  head  against  the  sod  until  he  was  insensible. 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  87 


Then  he  stood  up  glaring  at  the  host  of  them. 

"Rushing  Water  is  a  squaw?"  he  exclaimed. 
"Well,  who  wants  to  come  to  the  squaw's  em- 
brace? You,  War  Eagle?"  He  pointed  a  threat- 
ening finger  at  one  of  his  companions  "You, 
Gray  Hawk?"  His  quick-gleaming  eye  rested 
upon  another. 

The  boys  shrank  back  from  his  furious  face. 
Rushing  Water  waited  a  few  minutes.  His  first 
victim  slowly  recovered  consciousness  and  writhed 
away  like  a  snake.  Rushing  Water  resumed  his 
seat  on  the  ground  in  front  of  the  long  house  and 
calmly  began  to  grind  the  corn. 

After  that  no  one  called  him  squaw  girl,  nor 
was  any  remark  passed  in  his  hearing  upon  his 
strange  inclination  to  perform  servile  work  for 
his  mother. 

Another  trait  strange  in  the  character  of  the 
Indian  was  his  insatiable  curiosity.  He  asked 
questions  continually.  Pontiac  who  had  watched 
his  growth  with  proud  affection  but  with  a  strange 
uneasiness,  taught  him  all  the  legends  of  his  peo- 
ple and  answered  his  questions  as  tu  their  origin 
and  history  from  the  we. '^h  of  tradition  which 
was  stored  in  the  old  warnoi  s  brain.  One  day 
as  the  chief  sat  before  his  tent  in  the  sunshine, 
Rushing  Water  appeared  before  him  suddenly. 


88  THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


"Father,"  he  exclaimed,  "I  am  tired  of  the 
bow  and  arrow,  I  want  a  rifle." 

The  chief  surveyed  him  thoughtfully. 

"Ughl"  he  said  at  last  "Rifles  cost  many 
furs.  They  are  not  the  limbs  of  trees  that  may 
be  cut  in  the  forest.  When  I  was  a  lad  all  our 
people  fought  with  bows  and  arrows." 

"But  not  now,"  answered  the  boy.    "Now  the 
braves  of  the  Citawawas  carry  rifles." 

"Ugh!"  said  Pontiac.  "The  shooting  stick  is 
the  weapon  of  the  pale-faces.  The  Ottawawas 
bought  it  from  the  pale-faces  because  it  is  a  better 
weapon  than  the  bow.  But  rifles,  my  son,  are  for 
braves." 

Rushing  Water  drew  himself  up  to  his  full 
height,  and  although  he  was  then  in  his  seven- 
teenth summer,  he  had  all  a  man's  stature. 

"It  is  unbecoming,"  he  said,  "for  a  young  man 
to  boast  before  his  elders,  but  father"— and  his 
voice  quickened  and  his  eyes  gleamed — "is  there 
a  brave  of  the  Ottawawas  who  can  travel  farther 
in  a  day  or  drive  the  canoe  faster  or  farther  than 
Pontiac's  son?" 

A  slow  smile  spread  gradually  over  the  face  of 
the  old  warrior. 

"Ugh!"  he  exclaimed.  "Rushing  Water  shall 
have  his  shooting  stick." 

Impatiently  Rushing  Water  waited  the  day 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  89 

when  his  father's  promise  should  be  fulfilled. 
1  he  woods  had  put  off  the  festival  splendor  of 
their  autumnal  coloring,  and  stood  bare  and  bleak 
and  brown,  awaiting  the  onset  of  the  rushing  north 
wind  like  warriors  stripped  for  desperate  battle, 
when  a  band  of  traders  of  the  tribe  brought  back 
with  them  from  the  trading  post  of  the  I  rench, 
the  long  expected  gift.    Pontiac  received  the  way- 
farers at  the  door  of  his  long  house  and  they 
gravely  laid  before  him  the  fruit  of  their  enter- 
prise.   From  the  stock  of  firearms  the  chief  se- 
lected the  longest  barrel.    He  threw  the  stock 
to  his  shoulder  and  ran  his  keen  black  eye  along 
the  leveled  piece.    Then  he  laid  the  weapon  on 
the  ground  and  making  a  sign  to  the  others  to  be 
seated  round  his  tire,  entered  into  serious  counal 
with  them.    Rushing  Water,  burning  with  impa- 
tience,  feasted  his  eyes  upon  the  rifle,  as  he  stood 
some  distance  off.  but  his  quick  ears  caught  the 
conversation  and  he  listened  eagerly.    Pontiac  s 
questions  were  short  and  to  the  pomt,  and  his 
scouts  answered  him  tersely,  but  clearly. 

"Saw  you  my  great  brother,  the  chief  of  the 
French?"  Pontiac  asked. 
The  warriors  nodded. 
"What  was  the  word  on  his  lips?" 
The  oldest  of  the  interrogated  party  bent  for- 
ward on  his  hips. 


90  THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 

"Chief,"  he  answered,  "the  white  warrior 
spoke  true  words  to  us  for  the  ear  of  Pontiac. 
Between  the  pale-face  of  the  north  and  the  pale- 
face  of  the  south,  the  war-hatchet  hath  been 
raised.  The  shooting  sticks  of  the  white  people 
will  speak  to  one  another  with  their  tongues  of 

fire."  ,      ,  , 

"Ughl"  grunted  Pontiac,  and  for  a  few  seconds 

he  pulled  thoughtfully  at  the  long  stem  of  his 
pipe.  At  last  the  other  spoke  again.  He  was 
Strong  Bear,  a  warrior  only  second  in  authority 
to  Pontiac. 

"This  word  the  white  chief  spoke  to  me  for  the 
ears  of  Pontiac."  he  said.    "The  great  father  of 
the  French  holds  Pontiac  dear,  like  a  brother.  I 
am  a  great  chief  but  he  is  the  greatest  chief  m 
the  world.    The  flight  of  the  eagle  is  far.  The 
domain  of  the  great  father  of  the  French  is  as  a 
thousand  flights  of  the  eagle.    His  children  are 
as  the  trees  of  the  forest  which  no  man  can  count_ 
Through  me  he  speaks  to  Pontiac,  the  great  chief 
of  the  Ottawawas.    He  says  let  there  be  peace 
and  love  between  the  white  king  and  his  brother 
the  red  king.    The  white  foes  of  the  French  are 
the  deadly  foes  of  the  red  men.    Where  are  the 
Connccticuts?  Ask  the  scattered  remnants  of  the 
red  nations  who  once  dwelt  by  the  sea  what  has 
become  of  their  hunting  grounds.   Have  not  the 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  91 


English  driven  them  away?  Where  the  English, 
settlements  are  can  the  Indian  live?  Yet  see,  my 
red  brother,  how  it  is  not  the  same  with  the 
French.  We  would  trade  honestly  with  the  red 
man  and  not  cheat  him.  We  would  huy  his  furs, 
which  are  precious  to  us,  with  shooting  sticks  that 
make  him  mighty  in  the  hunt  and  in  war,  with 
goods  of  great  value.  See  with  your  own  eyes! 
Is  it  not  true  that  the  Indians  may  hunt  their  game 
under  the  very  walls  of  the  forts  of  the  French? 
Then  let  the  great  cl  'ef  of  the  Ottawawas  make 
war  with  the  French  against  our  enemy,  the  Eng- 
lish 1    This  was  the  word  of  the  French  chief 

for  the  ears  of  Pontiac." 

Strong  Bear,  having  spoken,  sat  back  and 

smoked  stolidly.    During  his  speech  there  had 

joined  the  party  an  aged  member  of  the  tribe. 

The  young  warriors  had  treated  him  with  great 

respect,  making  room  for  him  at  Pontiac's  side. 

To  him  the  chief  now  turned. 

"Sagamore,"  he  said,  "you  have  heard.  The 

wisdom  of  years  is  in  you.   Speak  to  my  young 

men. 

The  old  man  took  his  pipe  from  his  lips. 

"Men  of  the  Ottawawas,  listen  to  my  words," 
he  said  slowly  and  with  great  gravity.  "I  am 
long  at  the  cou.ncil  fire  and  have  listened  to  the 
words  of  many  wise  men.  The  French  chief  is  not 


92  THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 

a  singing  bird,  there  is  much  truth  in  his  words. 
The  French  are  better  friends  of  the  Indian  than 
are  the  English.  But  mark  this.  Long  ago  there 
was  a  chief  among  the  Leni-Lenape,  who  was  a 
mighty  warrior.    But  he  dreamed  of  himself  as 
so  much  greater  than  he  was  that  he  angered 
Manitu,  and  Manitu  stole  his  brains  from  him, 
so  that  he  imagined  vain  things.    For  he  said,  'I 
am  so  mighty  that  I  am  greater  than  Manitu,  I 
can  make  the  clouds  to  gather  and  pour  forth 
rain,  I  can  shoot  the  crooked  arrows  of  fire  across 
the  heavens,  I  can  make  the  rivers  to  rush  and 
the  darkened  sky  to  speak  in  crashes  that  deafen 
men.'   But  a  sagamore  said  to  him,  There  is  that 
you  cannot  do.'   And  he  answered  and  said,  'What 
is  it?'   And  the  sagamore  took  two  pebbles  from 
the  beach  and  handed  them  to  him  and  said,  'You 
cannot  put  these  two  pebbles  at  the  same  time  in 
the  same  place.'    French  or  English,  the  white 
man  is  one  thing  and  the  red  man  is  another,  and 
the  f.vo  cannot  dwell  at  the  same  time  in  the  same 
place.    Therefore,  I  say,  let  the  red  man  stand 
aside  while  the  French  and  the  F'.iiglish  talk  to 
each  other  with  fire,  so  that  they  may  wither  each 
other,  and  the  Indian  may  have  his  hunting 
grounds  for  himself.   I  have  spoken." 

The  men  at  the  council  fire  sat  thoughtful  and. 
silent.  At  last  Pontiac  nodded  his  head. 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


93 


"The  words  of  Ick-toosh,  the  Serpent,  arc 
words  of  wisdom;;  he  said.   ''It  shall  be  as  the 

Th"  menTtood  up  and  sauntered  off  in  dif- 
ferent dTrections.    Rushing  Water  wajted  untd 
h  y  had  departed  before  he  presented  h.mself. 
"Father,"  he  said,  holding  out  his  hands. 
The  chief  bent  down  and  picked  up  the  new 

rifle  from  the  grr  !"  , 

"Take  it"  he  ..rusting  it  into  the  out 

stretched  hands,  ''l  .e  It  like  a  warrior." 


CHAPTER  VI 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 

The  short  twilight  was  thickening  rapidly  be- 
fore the  daylight  failed.  Gray  clouds  in  heavy 
banks  swept  down  from  the  north  and  overspread 
the  sky.  The  freshening  gale  raged  through  the 
bare  branches  of  the  forest  in  short,  fierce  gusts, 
bitter  with  the  arctic  cold  of  the  wilderness  be- 
yond the  lakes. 

Rushing  Water  stood  where  Pontiac  had  left 
him,  looking  with  shining  feyes  at  t'.e  long  barreled 
rifle  of  French  manufacture  he  i^eld  in  his  hands. 
Lifting  the  deer  skin  curtain  that  served  as  a 
door  for  the  long  house,  he  entered  the  building. 

•'Outanie,  mother,"  he  cried  joyously.  "See! 
Rushing  Water  is  a  warrior.  See  his  shooting 
stick." 

On  a  couch  of  dried  branches  set  close  by  the 
fire  in  the  center  stall,  a  figure  stirred. 

"Yes,  yes,  my  son,"  Outanie  said,  raising  her 
head. 

Something  in  the  tone  of  her  voice  chilled  the 

94 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


95 


joy  in  the  boy's  heart.    He  dropped  his  rifle 
and  knelt  beside  her. 

"Outanie,  mother,"  he  asked  anxiously,  "what 
is  the  matter?" 

The  squaw  laid  her  thin  wrinkled  hand  affec- 
tior  nely  upon  the  sinewy  hand  of  the  youth. 

"Kneel  by  me  and  hold  my  hand,  my  son," 
she  said,  "for  Outanie  has  reached  the  shore  of 
the  unknown  country.  Her  mother  calls  her. 
Listen  I" 

She  leaned  upon  her  elbow,  her  ears  intent. 

The  wind  was  howling,  ever  more  fiercely. 

"They  call  Outanie,"  she  whispered.  "All  her 
people  who  have  gone  to  the  happy  hunting 
ground,  they  call  Outanie." 

"No  I  But  let  me  call  Ick-Toosh.  He  will 
make  medicine,"  cried  the  boy.  "Mother  you 
must  stay  I  You  must  not  go  1" 

She  smiled  up  at  him  weakly,  and  the  clasp 
of  her  hand  on  his  tightened  slightly. 

"The  Serpent  can  make  no  medicine  for  Outa- 
nie," she  said.  "Outanie  is  tired  here," — and  she 
placed  her  free  hand  over  her  heart. 

Another  raging  gust  tore  through  the  forest 
and  shook  the  frail  cabin. 

"Soon,  soon!"  murmured  the  squaw.  Then  in 
a  stronger  voice  she  said:  "Listen,  Rushing 
Water,  for  these  are  the  last  words  of  Outanie. 


i 


96  THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


Canst  sec  through  the  smoke  hole  in  the  roof  the 
red  flashes  of  light  that  cncrimson  the  gray  of  the 
storm?  That  is  Manitu's  torch  which  he  lights 
when  the  heav  ens  grow  dark.  Listen  I  Do  you 
remember  what  I  told  you  of  the  dark  liquor?" 
The  boy  nodded. 

"Then  ever  remember,  for  when  Rushing 
Water  fails  in  this,  death,  the  demon,  shall  come 
upon  him  and  the  evil  spirit  devour  him.  One 
more  charm  have  I  for  Rushing  Water." 

She  tore  open  the  bosom  of  her  hunting  shirt, 
and  raising  iier  head  lifted  over  it  a  circlet  made 
of  rawhide.  Hanging  from  this  was  an  object 
that  glistened  in  the  light  of  the  fire.  With  an 
effort  the  woman  sat  up  on  the  couch  and  slipped 
the  rawhide  thong  around  the  boy's  neck.  In 
the  glow  of  the  fire  a  crystal  cross  gleamed  redly 
upon  her  blanket.  She  fell  back  on  the  couch, 
breathing  heavily.  For  some  minutes  she  closed 
her  eyes.  When  she  opened  them  again  she  re- 
sumed, but  her  voice  was  very  low  and  weak. 

"It  is,"  she  whispered, — the  lad  bending  his 
head  close  to  catch  the  words, — "the  badge  of 
Manitu's  warrior.  It  is  the  totem  of  the  great 
spirit.  Wear  it  always,  but  show  it  to  no  red 
man  until  you  are  chief  of  the  Ottawawas  and 
the  king  over  the  nations." 

Again  there  was  silence  in  the  long  house.  But 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  97 


outsiile,  wilder  and  deeper  swelled  the  r  iar  t  the 
storm.  The  snow  was  falling  now;  great  gray 
clouds  of  it  that  seemed  to  press  down  upon  the  af- 
flicted earth  and  eddied  in  a  devil's  dance  when 
the  sky  was  lighted  up  with  the  pale  rose  and 
wan  blue-white  gleams  of  the  aurora  hore:ilis. 
The  rude  walls  of  the  long  house  trembled  under 
every  blow  of  the  furious  wind. 

"Rushing  Water  1"  the  voice  was  very  low  but 
the  boy  heard  it 

"Yes,  Outanie,  mother,"  he  whispered,  bend- 
ing his  face  close. 

"Listen  1"  said  that  low  strange  voice.  "He  r 
it  afar  offl  Hear  it  coming  i  When  it  comes 
the  soul  of  Outanie  shall  ride.   It  is  closer— now. 

It — comes — Rushing — Water — I  " 

With  i»  crash  and  a  roar  the  wild  wave  of 
storm  burst  shrieking  upon  the  cabin  and  then 
swept  on. 

There  was  a  little  tremor  in  the  hand  clasped 
in  those  of  Rushing  Water.  He  waited  for  the 
voice  again,  but  it  did  not  come.  The  hnnd  grew 
icy  cold  in  his.  He  pressed  his  ear  to  his  mother's 
side,  but  no  heartbeat  troubled  her  breast. 

Kneeling  beside  the  couch  he  pressed  the  cold 
hand  to  his  forehead.  One  great  sob  shook  his 
frame.  Around  the  cabin  the  shrieking  of  the 
wind  rose  and  fell.    Once  the  blast  seemed  to 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


pierce  the  building,  fanning  for  an  instant  into 
high  flame  the  embers  in  the  center  of  the  long 
hbuse,  but  Rushing  Water  neither  felt  the  chill 
of  the  entering  wind  nor  noted  the  red  glare  of 
the  rising  fire.  He  knelt  with  his  head  bent  over 
the  dead  hand,  with  as  little  sign  of  life  as  the 
figure  stretched  upon  the  couch. 

Behind  that  sudden  gust  that  had  entered  the 
interior  of  the  building  glided  Pontiac  with  the 
silent  tread  of  his  people.  His  blanket  was  white 
with  the  clustered  snow  flakes.  His  quick  eyes 
in  that  high  glare  of  light  that  passed  so  suddenly, 
took  in  the  scene  it  illuminated.  Folding  his 
arms  across  his  deep  chest  he  gazed  down  at  the 
dead  woman  and  the  kneeling  boy.  He  uttered 
no  word  and  gave  no  sign,  except  that  the  points  of 
his  iaws  stood  out  hard  as  granite  with  the  pres- 
sure of  his  set  teeth.  The  heat  of  the  fire  melted 
the  snow  on  his  blanket,  and  little  globes  of  water 
dropping  from  the  garment  took  on  in  the  glow  of 
the  embers  the  aspect  of  tiny  drops  of  blood. 

After  many  minutes  the  kneeling  figure  shiv- 
ered. Rushing  Water  released  the  dead  hand 
held  in  his  and  stood  erect.  Then,  for  the  fiwt 
time,  he  noticed  that  Pontiac  was  present. 

"Father,"  said  the  boy,  his  voice  rough  and 
hard  as  a  piece  of  stone,  "Outanic  sleeps." 

"Yes,"  answered  the  chief,  and  his  voice  was 


i 

t 


THE  CRYSTAL  .  ROOD  99 


like  the  echo  of  the  voice  of  Rushing  Water, 
"Outanie  sleeps.  She  has  had  the  heart  pain  these 
many  moons,  my  son,  ahhough  she  never  told  you. 
Outanie  shall  wake  no  more." 

For  a  pace  they  stood  silently  regarding  the 
dead  woman.  Then  Pontiac  extended  his  hand 
and  laid  it  upon  the  shoulder  of  the  younger  man. 

"Come,  my  son,"  he  said,  in  the  same  rough 
hard  voice,  "Come  into  the  storm." 

They  walked  to  the  end  of  the  short  corridor, 
unfastened  its  rawhide  curtain,  and  stepped  out 
into  the  fury  of  the  Mast.  There  they  stood  to- 
gether facing  the  storm,  pelted  by  the  snow  flakes, 
lashed  by  the  gale.  At  last  a  deep  groan  seemed 
to  rend  the  body  of  the  chief,  and  his  great  voice 
was  full  of  passionate  appeal  as  he  cried  out  into 
the  storm: 

"Oh,  Manitu,  mighty  spirit!  Oh,  Manitu, 
mighty  spirit!  Make  soft  tonight  the  couch  on 
which  the  soul  of  Outanie  rests.  Make  sweet 
the  corn  in  her  mouth,  and  joyous  the  songs  of 
birds  in  her  ears.  Make  peaceful  her  rest.  Oh, 
Manitu!" 

*  He  had  bent  forward  eagerly  as  he  uttered  his 
prayer.  But  now  he  straightened  his  form  and 
his  face  grew  stern. 

"I  wish,"  he  said  in  a  voice  that  was  utterly 
changed,  a  voice  that  was  low,  tortured,  tense, 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


"that  the  enemies  of  my  people  were  massed 
before  me.  I  wish  that  my  war-hatchet  were 
swinging  like  the  Hail  of  the  storm,  and  that  the 
cries  of  my  enemies  rose  like  the  shriek  of  the 
wind.  My  eyes  are  thirsty  for  the  sight  of  red 
skulls.  My  soul  cries  out  for  vengeance,  for  my 
heart  is  hurt." 


CHAPTER  VII 


THE  WAR  PARTY 

Over  the  drifted  snow,  traveling  swiftly  on 
his  snow  shoes,  there  came  in  the  first  light  of 
the  moi  ling  to  the  village  of  the  Ottawawas  a 
courier,  whose  call  found  a  fierce  echo  in  the 
pain-maddened  heart  of  Pontiac.  He  was  a  tall 
Huron.  Iri^  had  set  out  in  all  the  glory  "f  his 
war-paint,  but  the  snow  swept  into  his  face  and 
the  sweat  of  his  struggle  through  the  storm  had 
made  the  pigment  run  in  streaks  so  that  his  face 
was  hideous  as  he  stood  before  the  chief. 

"The  Red  Hawk  has  a  fire  word  for  the  ears 
of  Pontiac,  from  the  mouth  of  the  Honnondio," 
he  said,  using  the  word  by  which  the  Indians  of 
the  lake  regions  designated  the  French  (^(n  crnor. 

"Let  it  come  to  my  ears,"  commanded  Pontiac. 

"The  white  chief  says  to  Pontiac,"  the  1  luron 
answered,  "  'The  English  come  up  from  the  south 
to  take  the  strong  house  where  the  waters  meet. 
They  h«tve  many  warriors — ^more  than  Honnondio 
can  spare  for  its  defense.   Pontiac  is  a  wise  chief. 

lOI 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


He  knows  the  English  are  the  enemies  of  the 
red  man.  He  knows  the  French  are  the  friends 
of  the  Ottawawa  nation.  Honnondio  therefore 
begs  the  war-tomahawk  of  his  red  brother.  This 
is  his  speech  and  this  belt  speaks  for  him. 

As  he  concluded  the  Huron  placed  in  Pontiac's 
hand  the  broad  belt  of  wampum  which  was  the 
French  governor's  gift. 

"Huron,  you  come  to  me  in  good  time,"  re- 
plied Pontiac,  a  grim  smile  playing  over  his  lips. 
"There  shall  be  council  and  the  chiefs  shall  hear 
the  words  of  Honnondio." 

At  Pontiac's  bidding  a  great  fire  was  built  in 
the  snow  and,  wrapped  in  their  furs  and  blankets, 
the  leaders  of  the  allied  nations  seated  themselves 
around  the  blazing  logs.   Pontiac,  as  the  head  of 
the  confederation,  had  the  seat  of  honor  and  be- 
side him  sat  the  aged  Sagamore,  Ick-toosh.  In 
the  grim  circle  were  Strong  Bear,  the  Chippewa 
Chief;  Tegachook,  the  Miami  Chief;  Wassebo, 
the  celebrated  leader  of  the  Wyandots;  Black 
Beaver,  chief  of  the  Pottowatomies;  Red  Bird, 
of  the  Mississagas;  Torn  Face,  a  great  Shawnee 
warrior;  Powato,  of  the  Ottagamies,  and  Show- 
greel,  of  the  Winnebagoes,  as  well  as  other  noted 
sub-chiefs.  The  pipes  were  lighted  and  the  coun- 
cil began.    Pontiac  briefly  introduced  the  Huron 
courier  and  bid  him  repeat  for  the  ears  of  the 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  103 
assembled  chiefs  the  message  of  the  French  gen- 

Even  as  the  Huron  spoke  the  scouts  of  the  Ot- 
tavvawas  began  to  come  in  with  reports  confirm- 
ing  the  intelligence  of  the  French  Governor 
These  dark  figures  glided  up  beside  Pontiac  and 
whispered  their  tidings  into  his  ear.  They  re- 
ported that  a  great  company  of  riflemen  was  ad- 
vancing from  the  south,  with  Fort  Duquesne  at 
the  junction  of  the  Allegheny  and  Monongahela 
Rivers,  as  their  obvious  objective.  Pontiac  ques- 
tioned  each  scout  sharply. 

"Red  Coats?"  he  asked  of  one. 

The  scout  shook  his  head  in  a  vigorous  ncgz- 

"Deerskin  and  long  shootmg  sticks,  was  his 
answer,  indicating  that  the  advancing  troops  were 
not  of  the  kind  who  had  met  signal  disaster  under 
the  unfortunate  Braddock,  but  were  Colomal  n- 

When  the  Huron's  speech  had  ended  he  sat 
down  and  began  to  smoke  stolidly.  For  a  few 
minutes  no  one  spoke.  Then  Strong  Bear  arose 
and  addressed  his  associates.  ^ 

"When  the  dog  of  an  Iroquois  was  armed  with 
the  long  shooting  stick  by  his  friends  of  the  Eng- 
lish," he  said,  "did  he  not  slay  the  Algonquin? 
Were  not  the  people  of  the  lakes  his  helpless  vie- 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


tims?  Who  was  the  brother  to  the  man  of  the 
lakes?    Who  put  the  rifle  into  his  hands  and 

made  him  a  warrior  fit  to  cope  with  the  men  of 
the  long  house  of  the  Iroquois?  Strong  Bear 
doesn't  forget  Honnondio,  who  was  his  friend, 
asks  help  from  his  red  brother  whom  he  has 
helped.  Strong  Bear  would  dig  up  the  war-hatchet 
against  the  English  foes  of  the  men  of  the  lakes. 
1  have  spoken." 

As  the  Chippewa  resumed  his  seat,  all  eyes 
were  turned  upon  the  Sagamore  Ick-toosh.  The 
old  man  began  to  speak  slowly. 

"Last  night,"  he  said,  "Ick-too.^h  spoke  to  his 
brothers.  The  words  of  Ick-toosh  were  feathers 
on  the  air  for  the  storm  has  blown  them  away. 
The  words  of  Ick-toosh  lay  upon  the  ground  and 
the  snow  has  covered  them  up.  So  Ick-toosh, 
the  aged  man,  the  man  of  many  councils,  must 
make  new  words  for  the  ears  of  his  brothers. 
Listen  to  his  words.  The  men  of  the  lakes  are 
at  peace.  Their  long  houses  have  store  in  plenty. 
Their  woods  are  full  of  beaver  and  deer.  They 
ma)  mge  the  forest  unmolested.  Today  Hon- 
nondii  s  the  white  brother  of  the  men  of  the 
lakes,  but  every  day  his  people  come  more  and 
more.  Every  moon  their  great  ships  bear  them 
over  the  big  water.  They  have  girdled  the  men 
of  the  lakes  in  with  a  belt  of  strong  houses.  When 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


their  need  presses  and  their  strong  houses  are  so 
many  that  the  game  shall  be  driven  from  the 
forests,  what  shall  the  men  of  the  lakes  do?  Will 
they  give  up  their  tomahawks  and  he  women  work- 
ing in  the  fields?  Will  they  he  slaves  on  the 
great  plantations  of  the  whites?  Oh,  Manitu  the 
mighty,  has  set  white  nation  against  white  na- 
tion and  they  will  destroy  each  other,  if  the  red 
man  stand  aside.  Let  the  war-hatchet  stay  buried. 
The  quarrel  of  the  white  nation  is  not  the  (juarrel 
of  the  red  man.  Let  not  my  brothers  lose  their 
scalps  in  the  quarrel  of  the  pale-faces." 

The  words  of  Ick-toosh  always  carried  great 
weight  among  his  people,  and  several  of  the  war- 
riors nodded  their  heads  in  approval  of  his  coun 
oil.  But  the  younger  men  turned  their  eyes  anx- 
iously toward  the  face  of  the  head  of  the  con- 
federacy.   Pontiac  did  not  disappoint  them. 

"The  words  of  Ick-toosh  were  not  feathers  that 
the  wind  blew  away,"  he  began,  "nor  were  they 
covered  by  the  snow.  Yesterday  they  were  good 
words.  If  the  war  between  the  white  nations 
were  a  war  afar  off,  the  men  of  the  lakes  need 
take  no  thought.  But  the  I"",nglish  come.  They 
come  into  the  country  of  Pontiac.  Have  they 
sent  their  messengers  for  permission  to  come  into 
the  country  of  Pontiac?  Do  they  come  with  belts 
of  wampum,  to  smoke  the  pipe  of  peace?   No  I 


io6        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


They  come  as  their  red  coats  come,  with  their 
knives  in  their  belts  and  their  shooting  sticks  in 
their  hands,  to  take  the  strong  houses  of  the  In- 
dians' friends  and  slay  the  men  of  the  lakes." 

The  chief's  cold  eyes  settled  on  Strong  Bear 
as  he  began  a  crafty  personal  appeal. 

"Where,"  he  asked,  "is  the  scalp  lock  of  Red 
Elk,  the  brave  blood  brother  of  Strong  Bear? 
Why  was  his  skull  red  when  we  prepared  him  for 
burial?  Did  the  English  spare  Red  Elk  and  his 
squaw  and  his  papoose?" 

His  glance  shifted  to  the  Wyandot  chief. 

"Why  sits  my  brother  Wassebo  silent,"  he 
asked?  "Was  it  in  Wassebo's  heart  or  the  heart 
of  his  father  that  the  red  coat's  bullet  sank  ?  Has 
Wassebo  no  word  to  say?  Is  his  tomahawk  asleep 
in  h's  hand  when  he  hears  the  name  of  the  Eng- 
lish?" 

Again  his  glance  turned  and  singled  out  the 
scarred  features  of  Torn  Face. 

'  Was  it  the  claw  of  a  bear  that  ripped  the 
cheek  of  my  Shawnee  brother?"  he  asked.  "Was 
it  the  horn  of  an  elk  that  laid  his  cheekbone  bare? 
Or  was  it  the  knife  of  an  English  warrior? 

"Brothers!  Have  we  the  spirit  of  the  ancient 
Lenape?  Are  we  a  strong  people,  or  are  we 
women?  Are  we  wild  beasts  of  the  forest  that 
know  not  how  to  repay  kindness  with  kindness, 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  107 


and  injury  with  vengeance?  The  great  chief  of 
the  French  is  the  brother  of  I'ontiac.  He  had 
been  the  brother  and  the  protector  of  the  men 
of  the  lakes.  Shall  his  foes  overcome  him  and 
we  sit  idle  in  our  long  houses?  Wherever  the 
English  have  been  they  have  slain  our  people 
and  wasted  our  lands,  and  stolen  our  furs.  They 
come  into  the  door  of  our  house  unbidden.  Let 
them  be  driven  back  crying  like  whipped  dogs! 
Let  their  scalps  be  the  spoil  of  our  young  men! 
Dig  up  the  hatchet!    Pontiac  speaks  for  war!" 

The  circle  had  been  shifting  uneasily  under  the 
white-hot  words  of  the  old  warrior.  As  he  drew 
his  blanket  around  him  Wassebo  stood  up  and 
threw  his  to  the  ground.  His  black  eyes  were 
blazing  and  the  nervous  grip  of  his  hand  swung 
his  tomahawk  before  him.  Crouching  his  body  so 
that  he  leaned  forward  from  the  hips,  and  step- 
ping with  flexed  knees  he  began  a  slow  dance 
around  the  fire. 

"Yow-wee  1"  he  sang  as  he  danced. 
♦Tow-wee  is  the  war-yell  of  Wassebo. 
"Wassebo  thirsts  for  blood. 
"Wassebo  would  tear  the  pale  heart  out  of  the 
Englishman. 

"Wassebo  would  bury  his  tomahawk  in  the 
white  skull  of  his  enemy." 

One  by  one  the  other  braves  arose  and  fol- 


io8        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


lowed  him  in  his  dance;  Great  Bear  first,  Torn 
Face  next,  and  one  by  one  the  others  until  the 
wild  war-yell  resounded  through  the  black  for- 
est corridors,  as  the  red  men  pranced  with  cvct 
increasing  frenzy,  their  naked  bodies  glistening, 
their  tomahawks  brandished. 

Squaws  and  children  swarmed  out  of  the  cabins 
to  see  what  was  going  on.  They  beheld  the  ring 
of  braves  circling  around  two  figures :— one,  seat- 
ed, was  that  of  Ick-toosh,  his  eyes  somber, 
other,  standing,  was  Pontiac,  who  smiled  with 
fierce  joy. 

When  the  war  dance  was  over  at  last,  Pontiac 
began  his  military  preparations.  His  plan  was 
to  repeat,  if  possible,  the  maneuver  against  Gen- 
eral Braddock,  and  he  purposed  an  immediate  de- 
parture attended  by  all  the  braves  within  call. 
The  village  was  to  be  left  in  charge  of  the  youths 
who  had  not  attained  a  warrior's  dignity. 

Hushing  Water,  dull-brained  and  heavy-hearted 
from  grief,  was  summoned  to  the  council  tire  to 
receive  the  commands  of  Pontiac. 

"My  son,"  said  the  old  chief,  laying  a  heavy 
hand  upon  his  shoulder.  "This  evening  shall  see 
my  warriors  on  the  warpath.  You  shall  remain 
to  guard  the  village.  It  is  a  warrior's  training. 
Take  these  older  boys  and  send  them  as  scouts 
into  the  woods,  so  that  none  shall  approach  you 


niE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  109 


without  knowledge.  If  help  be  needed,  send  your 
fleetest  runner  on  my  trail  to  the  south.  Mean- 
while,  let  Outanie  be  pl:':cd  in  her  narrow  house 
like  the  daughter  of  chiefs  and  the  wife  of  a 
chief.    Farewell,  my  son." 

Rushing  Water  returned  to  attend  to  the  ob- 
sequies of  his  mother.  She  was  laid  at  rest  dur- 
ing the  day  with  honors  unusual  for  a  squaw. 
Furs  and  corn  were  buried  with  her,  while  the 
chiefs  of  the  Six  Nations  stood  around  mourning 
with  the  stricken  father  and  son. 

The  funeral  over,  i'ontiac  addressed  himself 
to  the  work  ahead  of  him.  Dried  deer  meat,  cut 
in  strips,  and  little  bags  of  corn  constituted  the 
meager  commissariat.  Before  darkness  fell  the 
stern,  silent  procession  left  the  village  and  plunged 
into  the  wild. 


CHAPTER  VIII 


THE  GATHERING  STORM 

It  was  a  dreary  autumn  and  winter  for  Rush- 
ing Water.  The  gift  of  the  rifle  had  been  made 
to  a  gay-hearted  boy;  the  charge  of  the  village 
had  been  entrusted  to  a  man,  for  sorrow,  sudden 
and  deep,  tempers  the  spirit  as  fire  does  the  iron. 
Although  there  were  older  lads  than  he  among 
the  little  company  Pontiac  had  left  to  guard  the 
cabins  of  the  Ottawawas,  the  crafty  old  chief  had 
made  a  wise  choice.    He  soon  showed  his  met- 
tie.    Among  the  braves  who  had  gone  with  the 
war  party  was  Ish-to-ba,  who  some  years  before 
had  called  Rushing  Water  "Squaw  girl,"  and  had 
suffered  for  the  taunt.    He  was  the  youngest  and 
least  experience  '  of  the  warriors  and  after  the 
fall  of  Duquesne,  Pontiac  sent  bim  back  to  the 
village  to  inform  Rushing  Water  that  the  Otta- 
wawa  braves  were  journeying  eastward  to  join 
Montcalm  in  the  Adirondacks.    Puffed  up  with 
pridt  over  his  new  dignities,  Ish-to-ba,  who  had 
never  forgiven  Rushing  Water  the  beating  he  had 

,110 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


III 


received  at  the  hands  of  the  younger  lad,  as- 
sumed command  as  the  right  of  a  warrior.  Rush- 
ing Water  found  that  his  instructions  to  some  of 
the  other  boys  had  been  countermanded  one  morn- 
ing. 

Looking  toward  the  cabin  of  Ish-to-ba  he  saw 
that  young  buck  sitting  at  the  door,  a  crowd  of 
lads  gathered  round  him  to  listen  to  his  story  of 
the  expedition.  Ish-to-ba  had  stuffed  his  pipe  with 
kinnikinnie  and  was  boasting  of  his  exploits. 

"With  my  shooting  stick,"  he  said  grandly,  "I 
slew  three  Fnglish  dogs.  Then  alone  I  grappled 
with  one  of  the  white  chiefs  and  my  knife  found 
his  heart." 

*'But  where  are  their  scalps?"  asked  Gray 
Hawk,  one  of  the  older  lads. 

Ish-to-ba  smoked  with  great  dignity. 

"Boys  must  not  question  warriors,"  he  said. 

"Gray  Hawk,"  said  Rushing  Water  quietly, 
"this  was  your  hour  to  watch  by  the  creek.  Why 
are  you  in  the  camp?" 

The  lad  turned  on  his  questioner. 

"Ish-to-ba  bade  me  come  in  and  hear  his  war 
talk,"  he  answered. 

Two  disconcerting  dark  brown  eyes  surveyed 
the  young  warrior  coldly  from  under  level  brows. 
Ish-to-ba  returned  the  stare  with  a  sneer. 


112        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 

"You  arc  not  well  brought  up,  boy,"  he  said, 
"or  you  would  not  interrupt  a  warrior." 

"Is  Pontiac  dead,  then?"  Rushing  Water  asked. 
"And  have  the  chiefs  elected  a  new  king  whose 
name  is  Ish-to-ba?" 

The  buck  sprang  to  his  feet.  He  was  a  splen- 
did savage,  tall,  well-muscled  and  agile.  As  he 
advanced  toward  RushinLj;  Water  his  wide  nostrils 
quivered  with  cruel  rage  and  his  black  eyes  glowed 
with  dull  hate.  His  fingers  gripped  a  stout  birch 
wand. 

"Dog  of  a  white-heart!"  he  growled,  "I  must 
teach  you  a  lesson.  Bare  your  back  till  I  beat 
you!" 

Rushing  Water  bared  his  back  but  not  for  a 
beating.  As  he  flung  his  blanket  from  him  it 
became  evident  that  Ish-to-ba  had  not  much  ad- 
vantage over  him  save  in  bulk.  Rushing  Water's 
magnificent  body  was  as  supple  as  a  sapling  and 
as  tough  as  a  hickdry  branch.  The  long  low 
muscles  rippled  under  his  smooth  skin  as  he  bent 
his  arms.  Ish-to-ba  raised  his  stick,  but  before  it 
fell  fingers  of  steel  clasped  the  descending  wrist 
and  the  buck  staggerc  under  the  impact  of  a 
clenched  fist  full  on  his  brow.  With  a  guttural  im- 
precation Ish-to-ba  dropped  his  stick  and  plucked 
a  knife  from  his  bolt.  Quick  as  was  the  sweep 
of  his  hand,  it  was  not  more  quick  than  that  of 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  113 


Rushing  Water.    For  a  second  the  two  youths 
faced  each  other,  eye  to  eye.    Then  the  huck 
began  to  circle  round  his  opponent,  uttering  short, 
yelping  ejaculations.    I  lis  feet  rose  and  fell  in  a 
cat-like  tread.     Rushing  Water,  turning  on  his 
he  J  awaited  the  onset  in  silence.    At  last  came 
the  spring  and  the  thrust,  and  the  swift  blade  of 
Ish-to-ba  sought  the  heart  of  his  enemy.    It  broke 
on  the  interposed  blade  of  Rushing  Water,  who 
swerved  and  swung  in  a  lightning  swoop,  encircling 
the  body  of  Ish-to-ba  with  his  left  arm,  while  the 
flexed  right  elbow  pressed  into  the  buck's  throttle. 
The  broken  knife  fell  from  Ish-tt)-ba's  hand,  which 
sprang  to  his  throat  to  release  the  choking  grip. 
He  bent  his  great  muscles  to  free  himself,  but 
the  embrace  into  which  he  had  been  entrapped 
was  like  a  tightening  steel  band,  and  at  last  with 
tongue  and  eyeballs  protruding  he  gave  way.  He 
fell  on  his  back.  Rushing  Water  on  top  of  him. 

"Listen,  Ish-to-ba,"  panted  Rushing  Water,  his 
arm  still  pressed  like  a  bar  on  his  enemy's  throat, 
"for  the  next  time  I  shall  kill  you.  This  village 
obeys  me.  W' bile  you  are  in  it  you  obey  me.  Shall 
it  be  so?" 

He  released  the  pressure  slightly.  Ish-to-ba 
gasped  for  breath.  When  he  could  speak  he 
said: 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


"Have  your  way !  I  shall  not  trouble  you  again 
until  the  braves  return." 

Rushing  Water  sprang  to  his  feet. 

♦'It  Is  well,"  he  said.  "Gray  Hawk,  to  your 
postl"  he  commanded  sharply  and  the  lad  did  not 
tarry. 

Ish-to-ba  gave  no  trouble  after  that.  He  re- 
mained in  the  village  sullen  and  glowering,  but 
the  authority  of  Rushing  Water  was  not  ques- 
tioned and  his  dispositions  were  carried  out  to  the 

letter.  Reports  from  the  front  were  not  encourag- 
ing. The  French  and  their  Indian  allies  had  some 
success  at  first  in  Eastern  New  York,  but  early  in 
the  following  year  the  tide  of  war  turned  and  one 
by  one  the  French  posts  fell,  until  at  last  Mont- 
calm died  on  the  Plains  of  Abraham,  and  the 
French  empire  of  the  west  was  broken  forever. 

Pontiac  returned  to  his  village  in  a  bitter  and 
vengeful  mood.  He  found  his  stronghold  pros- 
perous, but  his  future  and  that  of  his  people  gave 
him  much  conctrn.  His  old  companions  in  arms 
were  gone,  the  dominant  whites  were  now  a 
strange  people,  and  not  overfriendly.  They  tra- 
versed his  lands  without  permission,  they  strength- 
ened the  posts  they  had  taken  from  the  French 
and  built  new  outposts  on  the  creeks  and  the  lakes. 
There  were  still  French  in  considerable  numbers 
among  the  hunters  and  traders,  expeditions  from 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  115 


New  Orleans  in  the  far  south  ascended  the  Mis- 
sissippi  and  its  tributaries  to  barter  for  furs  and 
the  famous  couriers  du  bois  plied  their  trade  on 
the  lakes,  but  the  empire  was  in  English  hands, 
the  military  forces  were  composed  of  hostile,  con- 
temptuous men,  and  little  heed  was  paid  to  the 
pride  and  property  rights  of  the  Ottawawa  chief. 
He  tried  to  impress  his  power  on  the  strangers  at 
the  onset  but  failed.  When  Major  Rogers  jour- 
neyed  westward  to  take  charge  of  Detroit,  Pon- 
tiac,  with  a  hundred  braves,  met  him  at  the  Alle- 
gheny. 

"You  come  into  the  empire  of  Pontlac,"  he  said 
to  the  English  officer,  "yet  no  one  has  asked  Pon- 
tiac's  permission." 

The  Englishman  turned  to  the  interpreter. 

"Say  to  the  chief,"  he  said,  "that  I  go  to  De- 
troit on  my  master's  business ;  that  the  King  of  the 
English  is  lord  over  all  the  land." 

The  interpreter  translated. 

"Till  the  next  sun,"  said  Pontiac,  "I  stand  in 
your  path.  Then  we  shall  sec." 

All  that  night  the  chief  pondered.  From  his 
tepee  he  could  see  the  cainp-fircs  of  the  I'.nglish 
and  his  experienced  eyes  noted  the  confident  and 
efficient  manner  in  which  the  colonials  took  precau- 
tions against  surprise.   They  were  too  strong  for 


ii6        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


him.  In  the  morning  he  hid  his  deep  chagrin  be- 
hind an  impassive  countenance. 

"My  white  brother,"  he  said,  "has  safe  conduct 
through  the  lands  of  Pontiac.  My  young  men 
shall  escort  him  to  Detroit." 

So  the  months  passed,  and  what  they  held  added 
to  the  rage  in  the  heart  of  the  chief.  His  new 
neighbors  had  none  of  the  winning  court  y  of  his 
old  white  allies.  Complaint  after  compLunt  came 
to  him  from  the  people  of  his  confederacy  of  insult 
and  outrage.  The  fire  smoldered  in  the  hearts  of 
the  chief  and  his  followers.  Pontiac  icept  much  to 
his  tent,  silent  and  thoughtful.  A  dozen  times  his 
younger  men  called  on  him  to  dig  up  the  hatchet 
but  he  restrained  them. 

"Not  yet;  not  yetl"  he  would  say  with  uplifted 
hand. 

But  on  tablets  of  birch  he  marked  down  each 
tale  of  oppression. 

"The  account  grows  long,"  he  said  grimly  one 
day  to  Rushing  Water. 

"Too  long,  father!"  exclaimed  the  young  man 
impatiently. 

Pontiac  surveyed  him  shrewdly. 

"It  shall  be  settled  in  time,  my  son,"  he  said. 
"Settled  to  the  last  mark.  You  shall  have  a  war- 
rior's work  cut  out  for  you." 

He  began  to  store  the  supply  houses  with  corn 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


117 


not  only  from  his  own  fields  but  from  those  of 
other  tribes.  Messengers  were  sent  to  trusted 
friends  at  Quebec  and  returned  laden  with  powder 
and  bullets.  When  his  supply  of  furs  gave  out 
Pontiac  pledged  the  fruit  of  future  hunts.  He 
gave  to  the  daring  French  traders  notes  on  his 
future  wealth,  rudely  written  on  birch  bark  tablets 
and  signed  with  his  totem,  the  otter. 

In  Detroit  and  Fort  Pitt,  as  Duquesne  had  been 
renamed,  and  in  the  other  posts  and  settlements, 
the  conquering  Fnglish  slept  in  fancied  security. 
But  in  the  wild  the  storm  was  brewing. 


CHAPTER  IX 


THE  MEETING  ON  THE  ISLE 

The  w^rm  ray  of  the  April  sun,  bioken  into 
countless  nashes  of  gold  on  the  rippling  surface  of 
Lake  Erie,  washed  the  shores  of  the  beautiful 
island  which  the  Indians  called  Pelee.  Thickly 
covered  with  somber  pine,  that  shaded  the  tender 
green  of  the  fresh  grass,  it  lay  like  an  emerald 
on  the  brtast  of  the  lake.  Toward  this  isle  one 
morning  in  the  early  spring  of  1763,  hundreds  of 
long  canoes  made  their  way.  They  came  from  all 
directions,  and  as  their  paddles  flashed  and  fell  the 
circling  wild  birds  rose  screaming  in  the  air, 
frightened  by  the  unwonted  presence  of  so  many 
human  beings  on  these  lonely  waters. 

It  was  in  this  secluded  spot  that  Pontiac  had 
determined  to  hold  his  great  war  council.  As  the 
warriors  arrived  he  welcomed  them  gravely  to  a 
seat  round  the  great  council  fire.  They  came  from 
many  nations.  The  remnants  of  the  Algonquin 
tribes  of  the  northeast  were  there.  The  Miami 
warriors  were  present.    The  Obigibways  s:nt 

118 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


119 


their  strongest  chiefs.  The  Kaskaskias,  hereditary 
foes  of  the  Ottawawas,  buried  their  old  animosi- 
ties and  came  to  smoke  the  pipe  of  peace  with  the 
great  chief  of  their  enemies.  Tall  and  stately 
the  savage  Hurons  took  their  place  in  the  wide 
circle.  The  Illinois  tribes  mingled  with  the  war- 
riors of  the  Ottawawa  confederacy. 

The  sun  was  four  hours  high  in  the  eastern  sky 
when  the  pow-wow  began.    Ick-toosh,  the  old 
Sagamore,  was  dead  and  in  that  dark  assemblage 
there  was  now  no  voice  for  peace.   The  rapid  set- 
tlement of  the  Ohio  country  which  had  followed 
upon  the  English  conquest,  had  spread  a  feeling  of 
apprehension  and  resentment  among  all  the  west- 
ern tribes,  and  the  haughty  demeanor  of  the  new 
settlers  quickened  a  hostility  which  many  cases  of 
actual  insult  and  outrage  fanned  into  flame.  The 
faces  upon  which  Pontiac's  eyes  rested  were  stern, 
eager  faces,  whose  habitual  gravity  gave  way  to 
quick  flashes  of  approval  at  every  suggestion  of 
war  and  bloodshed.   Pontiac  opened  the  councd. 

"My  red  brothers,"  he  said,  "you  are  welcome 
at  the  council  fire  of  Pontiac.  We  are  men  of  the 
forest  and  lake,  warriors  and  the  sons  of  warriors. 
East  of  us  there  is  a  great  water:  west  of  us  there 
is  a  great  water;  beyond,  the  highest  of  the  high 
hills.  By  these  waters  the  great  spirit  marked  out 
the  hunting  grounds  of  the  red  race.  Beyond 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


these  waters  are  other  lands  which  Manitu  gave 
to  the  white  peoples  to  dwell  in.  But  from  where 
the  sun  rises  in  the  sea  to  where  the  sun  sets  in 
the  sea  is  many  times  the  flight  of  an  eagle,  and 
by  the  gift  of  the  great  spirit  these  are  the  red 
man's  lands.  There  are  traditions  among  our 
people,  talks  which  the  shore  Indian  has  made  to 
his  inland  neighbors,  that  when  first  the  pale-face 
came  the  red  man  treated  him  as  a  brother  cast 
up  by  the  sea.  He  was  given  fish  and  maize  for 
his  food,  and  furs  for  a  clothing  for  his  body. 
But  he  came  in  greater  numbers  and  waxed  arro- 
gant and  he  took  our  women  and  slew  our  men 
and  made  warriors  drunk  with  his  fire  water,  and 
robbed  them  of  their  furs  and  lands  with  force 
and  false  words.  What  say  you  to  this,  my 
brothers?" 

Strong-left-hand,  the  gigantic  chief  of  the  Kas- 
kaskias  let  fall  his  blanket  and  folding  his  arms 
upon  his  breast  gazed  round  the  circle.  One  ear 
had  been  shorn  from  his  skull  and  a  great  white 
seam  lay  across  his  forehead. 

"My  brothers,"  he  said,  touching  the  seam  on 
his  brow,  "this  cleft  was  made  by  the  tomahawk  of 
an  Ottawawa  warrior.  The  scalp  knife  of  Pontiac 
shore  my  car  from  the  skull,  and  there  has  been 
blood  feud  between  us.  But  because  Pontiac  is  a 
great  chief  of  the  red  man's  blood,  and  wise  as  a 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  121 


serpent  and  bold  as  an  eagle,  I  have  come  to 
smoke  with  him  the  pipe  of  peace,  to  say  to  the 
red  people  that  the  war-hatchet  has  been  buried 
between  us  and  to  plcdj?e  my  tomahawk  to  his 
cause  against  the  Knglish  invaders  of  our  home. 
Wc  are  not  few  who  rightfully  own  this  forest 
and  these  waters,  but  we  dwell  by  many  smokes. 
We  are  not  women  but  warriors.    We  are  not 
slaves  but  free  men.   The  feud  of  the  Kaskaskia 
has  a  call  in  my  ears  which  ny  spirit  answers, 
but  louder  is  the  call  of  the  red  man's  blood  which 
the  Kaskaskia  shares  with  many  nations.  Among 
the  warriors  let  there  be  peace.    Between  them 
and  the  pale-face  let  there  be  war.  Let  their  men 
die  under  the  tomahawk.    Let  their  womei.  die 
and  their  children  die,  so  that  this  side  of  the 
great  water  there  may  be  no  more  English  dogs. 
I  have  spoken." 

One  after  another  the  leading  chiefs  added 
their  voices  to  the  cry  for  war.  One  after  another 
with  fiery  words  they  inflamed  their  own  hearts 
and  those  of  their  companions. 

Among  the  young  men  gathered  round,  none 
drank  in  more  eagerly  the  tale  of  the  Indian 
wrongs  than  Rushing  Water,  and  in  no  heart  did 
the  cry  for  vengeance  more  loudly  ring.  He 
looked  with  eager  eyes  upon  these  chiefs,  most  of 
them  warriors  of  renown,  tales  of  whose  exploits 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


had  been  told  many  times  around  the  camp  fires. 
Gathered  together  there,  they  seemed  to  him  to 
represent  an  irresistible  force.  To  the  sanguine 
spirit  of  youth  there  could  be  but  one  outcome  of 
the  proposed  war,  one  issue  to  the  wild  onset  of 
all  these  redoubtable  warriors  striking  for  a  cause 
dearest  to  the  Indian's  heart.  He  had  seen  the 
war  dance  many  times  but  the  wild  gyration  which 
was  to  end  this  council  was  such  as  no  man  had 
ever  seen  before. 

When  the  frenzy  of  the  warriors  had  been  ex- 
cited to  the  highest  pitch  by  the  recounted  wrongs 
of  their  people,  and  Pontiac  had  lashed  them  into 
an  insane  fury  with  words  of  fire,  they  threw 
aside  their  blankets,  and  screaming  their  wild  war- 
whoops  and  brandishing  knives  and  tomahawks 
pranced  demoniacally  in  the  huge  circle.  There 
were  three  hundred  -maddened  braves  in  that 
whirlblast  of  hate.   Ominous  was  their  dance  for 
the  peace  of  the  English  settlements,  for  those 
three  hundred  represented  full  six  thousand  war- 
riors who  within  a  few  hours  would  be  speeding 
through  the  forest  on  deadly  business.  They 
danced  until  exhausted  and  slept  where  they  fell 
on  the  ground,  awakening  only  for  the  great  feast 
that  the  Ottawawa  chief  had  prepared  for  his 
guests.    The  next  morning  found  them  again  at 
council,  this  time  gravely  considering  the  plans  of 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


123 


war  which  Pontiac  laid  before  them.  With  his 
tomahawk  the  old  chief  drew  a  rude  map  upon 

the  ground. 

"Here,"  he  said.  markinR  a  cross,  "is  the  fi«rt 
they  call  Detroit.  There  shall  I  assail  with  a  thou- 
sand warriors.  Here  is  Michilimakinak.  l  et 
my  brother  the  Obigibway  chief  take  care  of  the 
settlement  there.  Strong  Bear  shall  lead  the  party 
to  the  settlement  the  French  call  Le  Boeuf.  My 
brother  the  Kaskaskia  chief  shall  scourge  the 
shores  of  the  great  lake  of  Michigan.  And  here 
at  Venango,  where  the  French  Creek  joins  the 
Allegheny,  I  shall  expect  my  son,  Rushing  Water, 
to  do  a  warrior's  work  at  the  head  of  my  young 
men." 

Rushing  Water,  who  had  been  eagerly  listenmg, 
brightened  at  these  words  and  hurriedly  began  to 
recruit  his  company.  Eighty  warriors  were  as- 
signed him  for  his  work.  All  preparations  having 
been  made,  the  council  broke  up,  the  chiefs  hurry- 
ing to  rally  their  tribe^  before  the  sun  set.  The 
Ottawawa  flotilla  was  on  the  lake.  It  divided  into 
two  parts,  one  great  fleet,  under  Pontiac,  proceed- 
ing to  the  westward,  and  tcr  long  canoes,  each 
with  a  company  of  eight  men,  speeding  toward  the 
east.  In  command  of  the  smaller  party  was  Rush- 
ing  Water,  his  scalp  shaven  save  for  the  single 
scalp  lock  with  its  eagle  feather,  and  his  face  and 


THE  CUYSIAL  ROOD 


body  hideously  daubed  with  the  red  and  yellow 
of  his  war  paint. 

Pontiac*s  long-burlcd  hatchet  was  out  of  the 
ground  at  last.  Within  three  days  the  war  yells 
of  his  followers  were  shriekin^i;  around  the  smaller 
and  less  protected  settlements.  The  wrath  of  the 
old  chief  was  loose  like  a  living  flame  lashing  the 
far  northwest  frontier  in  the  last  desperate  strug- 
gle of  the  lake  Indians  against  encompassing 
destiny. 


CHAPTER  X 


BAGGATAWAY 

Thrust  out  into  the  wilderness  the  rude  outpost 
of  a  white  civilization  at  Venango  was  tucked 
cozily  into  a  bend  of  the  Allegheny  stream,  some 
miles  about  Fort  Pitt.    The  French  had  estab- 
lished the  settlement  close  to  the  mouth  of  Prench 
Creek,  a  wate.way  much  used  by  the  Indians. 
Although  the  cross  of  St.  George  now  fluttered  in 
the  breeze  above  the  block  house,  and  the  garrison 
of  twenty  soldiers  stationed  at  the  post  were 
British  regulars,  there  still  remained  a  few  French 
families  among  the  forty  who  composed  the  set- 
tlement.   Some  of  these  had  already  established 
permanent  homes  outside  the  palisades,  and  with- 
in, while  others  were  temporary  sojourners  at  the 
post— traders  from  Quebec  or  from  distant  New 
Orleans.    The  new  families  were  for  the  most 
part  transplanted  Virginia  Colonials,  between 
whom  and  the  French  settlers  there  had  already 
grown  up  a  community  feeling  that  was  gradually 
overcoming  the  rancors  of  the  recent  war.  The 

125 


126        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


young  English  officers  visited  the  homes  of  the 
French  and  found  the  company  of  the  vivacious 
F'rench  girls  vastly  agreeable.  Small  as  was  the 
settlement,  and  remote  from  the  civilization  of 
which  it  was  an  offshoot,  it  had  its  social  spirit  and 
its  pleasant  hours. 

The  log  houses  were  in  some  cases  more  than 
mere  cabins,  and  there  were  little  parlors  taste- 
fully decorated  and  showing  some  of  the  luxury  of 
the  old  world.  Traders  ascending  the  river 
brought  French  journals  from  New  Orleans,  and 
although  these  were  many  months  old  when  they 
reached  Venango,  they  carried  some  of  the  gossip 
and  much  of  the  feeling  of  the  old  world  to  its 
distant  daughter  in  the  far-off  valley  of  the  Alle- 
gheny. 

The  sight  of  Indians  was  not  strange  to  these 
frontier  folk.  In  the  old  days  there  had  been  a 
camaraderie  between  the  French  and  the  neighbor- 
ing warriors,  and  even  now  braves  in  couples  or  in 
dozens  were  frequent  visitors.  Sometimes  even  a 
hunting  party  of  considerable  size  camped  outside 
the  palisade  and  offered  pelts  for  barter.  Pros- 
perous, happy  little  Venango  lay  in  the  smiling 
Allegheny  Valley,  on  a  beautiful  morning  in  early 
May  when  all  the  world  seemed  at  peace.  At  sun- 
rise the  sentry  reported  to  F^nsign  Gadwell  that 
two  Indians  were  at  the  gates.    He  was  ordered 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  127 


to  admit  them  and  they  soon  were  standing  before 
the  British  officer,  a  brace  of  young  bucks,  one  of 
whom  addressed  the  Englishman  in  French.  '1  he 
soldier  shook  his  head. 

"Call  that  trader  from  New  Orleans— what's 
his  name? — ^Ah,  yes,  Monsieur  de  Boncour,"  he 
said  to  an  orderly.  The  Indians  stood  like  stone 
figures  until  the  French  trader  entered  the  room. 
He  was  a  powerful  man  of  middle  age  with  danc- 
ing black  eyes  and  a  bold  brow,  clothed  in  fringed 
hunting  jacket  and  leggings. 

"Ah,  my  friend,"  saluted  young  Gadwell,  "I  am 
in  difficulties.  I  speak  neither  French  nor  any 
Indian  tongue,  and  here  are  two  savages  who 
would  have  words  with  me.    May  I  ask  aid?" 

"Certainly,  Monsieur,"  smiled  the  trader. 
Then  turning  to  the  dark  visitors  he  asked  in 
French : 

"What  would  my  red  brothers  have  from  the 
white  chief?" 

"We  are  of  Pontiac's  people,"  answered  the 
taller  of  the  two  Indians.  "We  have  two  parties 
who  would  play  baggataway  which  the  French  call 
La  Crosse.  We  would  ask  the  white  chief  for 
permission  to  use  the  clearing  outside  the  walls 
for  our  game." 

De  Boncour  translated  the  request  to  the  officer 
who  replied  smilingly: 


128        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 

"Ah  I  have  heard  of  this  game.  It  will  fur- 
nish sport.  Tell  them  they  have  our  permission 
and  welcome.  When  do  they  play?" 

"When  do  you  play?"  asked  the  trader  in 
French.  The  brave  addressed  pointed  to  a  spot 
in  the  sky  midway  between  the  meridian  and  the 
western  horizon. 

"About  four  in  the  afternoon,"  cxplamed  de 
Boncour  to  the  Englishman.  Then  addressing  the 
Indians  again  he  said: 

"The  white  chief  gives  permission  to  the  young 
warriors  to  play  in  the  clearing." 

They  bowed  gravely  and  signified  that  they 
were  ready  to  depart.  The  sentry  escorted  them 
to  the  gate,  opened  it  and  let  them  out.  They 
walked  slowly  to  a  long  canoe  lying  on  the  river 
bank,  pushed  it  into  the  water,  jumped  m  and 
paddled  up  the  stream. 

The  trader,  left  alone  with  the  officer,  turned 
to  him  wtth  a  look  of  uneasiness  in  his  eyes. 

"I  am  as  you  know  but  two  days  in  the  post, 
Monsieur,"  he  said.    "Tell  me,  are  the  Indians 

friendly?"  ^, 

"No  bother  at  all,"  said  Gadwell  easdy.  In 
fact  they  haven't  even  ventured  near  us  these 

three  weeks." 

The  shadow  deepened  in  dc  Boncour's  eyes. 
"By  no  means  a  good  sign,  that,  if  Monsieur 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


129 


will  pardon  me,"  he  said  gravely.  "1  here  was 
something  I  liked  little  about  the  look  of  those 
two.  Might  I  suggest  to  Monsieur  that  he  order 
all  his  people  to  keep  within  the  palisade,  while 
these  savages  are  close  by?" 

"Ah,  nonsense,  my  friend,"  laughed  the  Lnglish- 
man.  "I  was  just  thinking  what  a  capital  diver- 
sion it  would  be  for  us  all  to  go  out  and  watch 
their  game.   These  two  seemed  friendly  enough. 

"I  am  twenty  years  a  woodsman,"  said  dc  Bon- 
cour,  "so  you  will  pardon  me  for  saying  it  would 
be  quite  foolhardy  to  go  without  the  walls.  Watch 
their  play  from  within.  Monsieur!" 

The  officer  laughed  again.  "Ah,  Miss  Bon- 
cour!"  he  called.  "What  think  you  of  this  timid 
uncle  of  yours,  who  would  spoil  the  beauty  of  our 
glorious  spring  morning  with  grisly  forebodings, 
because  a  handful  of  savages  wish  to  play  ball 

in  our  clearing?"  ,  ,     ,  c 

The  girl  thus  greeted  had  opened  the  door  ot 
one  of  the  log  dwellings  and  stepped  out  on  the 
porch.  She  laughed  back  a  gay  greeting  to  the 
young  officer,  and,  vaulting  the  low  balustrade  of 
the  porch  with  the  lightness  and  grace  of  a  fawn, 
she  danced  across  the  sward  and  caught  her  uncle 
round  the  neck.  Then  she  turned  and  bowed  de- 
murely to  his  companion. 

"Good  morning,  Meestaire  Gad-weel,"  she  said 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


in  slow,  unaccustomed  English.  "Men  oncle— 
deed  you  say  heem  timid?"  She  laughed  heartUy 
at  the  idea.  The  young  soldier  joined  in  her 
mirth,  his  eyes  full  of  frank  admiration.  He 
noted  the  deep  gladness  of  her  great  brown  eyes, 
the  rose  flush  beneath  the  creamy  tan  of  her 
rounded  cheeks,  the  silky  richness  of  her  chestnut 
hair,  and  the  cherry  red  of  her  lips  parted  in  the 
frank  gay-hearted  laughter  of  seventeen.  Clothed 
in  a  dainty  habit  of  deerskin,  whose  brown  tints 
harmonized  with  hair  and  eyes  and  sun-kissed 
cheeks,  she  might  well  stir  to  quickened  throbbing 
a  less  impressionable  heart  than  that  of  the  young 
officer. 

"Not  for  himself,  do  I  mean,"  said  Gadwell, 
"but  for  the  prize  in  his  charge,  and  by  gad.  Miss 
Boncour,  were  I  in  charge  of  such  a  treasure,  I 
would  be  uneasy  too." 

De  Boncour  had  taken  no  part  in  this  pleasan- 
try. The  experienced  wood- rover  was  studying 
an  oncoming  fleet  of  long  canoes  just  turning  a 
bend  in  the  river.  A  rather  grim  smile  played 
upon  his  lips  as  he  counted  the  boats  and  made 
a  rough  estimate  of  the  number  of  warriors  they 
carried. 

"Rather  more  than  a  handful  there,  Monsieur," 

he  said  quietly. 

Gadwell,  who  in  his  present  pleasant  occupa- 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  131 

tion  of  smiling  into  the  eyes  of  Valerie  de  Bon- 
cour,  had  forgotten  the  Indians,  turned  with  a 
start  and  let  his  eyes  rest  upon  the  approaching 
canoes.    For  an  instant  his  face  grew  serious. 

"How  many  do  you  count,  my  friend?"  he  said. 

"There  are  eighty  braves  in  that  party,'  dc 

Boncour  answered.  ,  .    ^„  .... 

"And  does  that  presage  difficulties?  asked  the 

young  officer. 

"Not  necessarily,"  the  Frenchman  answered, 
"but  it  justifies  precautions.  I  renew  my  most  re- 
spectful sutigcstion  that  all  our  people  keep  w.thm 
the  palisade  until  this  party  shall  have  left. 

The  Indians  pulled  their  shallops  out  on  the 
bank  and  proceeded  to  the  edge  of  the  clearing 
where  they  made  a  camp  fire.   This  business  hav- 
ing been  attended  to,  the  morning  meal  was  pre- 
pared     The  soldiers,  watching  them  curiously, 
beheld  only  a  party  of  young  men  seemingly  bent 
upon  a  day's  frolic.    Some  of  them  stood  by  the 
fires  and  smoked,  others  ran  short  foot  races, 
while  still  others  in  small  groups  sauntered  up 
and  down  before  the  protecting  walls.    I  he  mid- 
day meal  was  cooked  and  eaten,  the  early  after- 
noon passed  slowly,  and  the  hour  ol  four  came  at 

Then  was  a  stir  in  the  Indian  camp.   A  small 
group  of  Indians  brought  four  fresh-cut  saplmgs 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


out  of  the  woods  and  set  a  pair  of  these  up  at 
opposite  ends  of  the  clearing.  Twenty  of  the 
braves  threw  off  their  blankets  and  their  hunting 
shirts,  and,  naked  to  the  waist,  divided  into  two 
parties,  one  at  either  end  of  the  field.  Each  of 
these  braves  held  in  his  hand  a  racket  with  a 
handle  five  feet  in  length,  bent  at  one  end  like  a 
shepherd's  crook,  the  bight  of  which  was  netted 
with  thongs  of  deer  hide.  From  the  edge  of  the 
marked-out  field  a  young  buck  threw  a  ball.  Like 
a  flash  the  opposing  teams  made  for  it,  and  the 
game  was  on. 


CHAPTER  XI 


THE  BLOOD  CALL 


Where  the  tossed  ball  fell  in  the  middle  of  the 
oblong  field,  there  was  a  moment's  wild  confusion, 
above  which  the  rackets  swung  back  and  forth. 
At  last  &e  ball  rose  from  the  center  of  the  strug- 
gling braves  in  a  long  flight  toward  the  northerly 
goal.   Instantly  the  knot  of  young  Indians  broke 
and  darted  in  pursuit,  while  the  goal  keeper 
crossed  his  racket  in  front  of  his  body  and 
crouched  down  to  protect  his  wickets.  One  of  the 
young  bucks  soon  emerged  from  the  cluster,  how- 
ever, as  his  comrades  turned  to  interfere  with  their 
opponents,  and  his  quick  racket  scooped  the  ball 
from  the  sod.    With  a  hurried  swmg  he  flung 
it  toward  the  south.   It  seemed  like  a  long,  wild 
throw     The  ball  soared  over  the  palisade  and 
landed  within  the  post.    Half  a  dozen  young 
braves  scrambled  in  throu^'h  the  open  gate  before 
the  sentry  could  interpose  his  rifle,  and  catchmg 
the  ball  as  it  lay  on  the  ground  one  of  them  tossed 
it  carelessly  back  over  the  paling.    Then  the 

133 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


Indians  went  out  again  and  resumed  the  play. 

To  the  white  spectators  the  game  afforded  ex- 
citement and  pleasure.  Nearly  all  the  residents 
of  the  settlement  had  gathered  along  the  palisade 
to  gaze  at  the  contending  teams  over  the  log 
breast-works.  The  women  applauded  each  swift 
llight  and  throw,  and  among  the  men  wagers  were 
made  upon  the  outcome.  Soon  all  suspicion  was 
dissipated  and  only  de  Boncour,  noting  the  fre- 
quency with  which  wildly  thrown  balls  came  over 
the  stockade  to  be  retrieved  each  time  by  a  larger 
group  of  players,  nursed  a  vague  suspicion  in  his 
heart  and  kept  his  hand  on  his  rifle. 

"See  that  young  runner  on  the  southerly  team," 
said  Gadwell  to  him.  "He  seems  unlike  all  his 
companions." 

The  eyes  of  the  little  party  sought  out  the 
brave  indicated.  He  was  easily  distinguishable 
from  the  rest  not  only  because  of  the  superior 
swiftness  and  grace  of  his  movements,  but  because 
of  the  high,  clear  laughter  that  came  from  him 
from  time  to  time  and  that  sounded  strangely 
among  the  fierce  ejaculations  of  his  companions. 

"He  is  a  very  handsome  Indian,"  said  Valerie 
with  prompt  decision.  Du  Boncour's  eyes  fol- 
lowed him  curiously. 

"That  is  very  strange."  murmured  the  French- 
man.   "He  plays  more  like  a  white  man  than  a 


THE  CRYSTAL  KOOU  US 
111'—"  The  exclamation  was  caused 
by 'mother  flight  of  the  ball  over  the  stockade. 
This  time  there  was  a  general  rush  to  rc.ncvc  ,t 
not  only  the  players  cntcr.ni;  the  enclosure,  but  a 
g!L-ral  movement  taking  place  anu.ng  the  Ind.an 

'""'irCav  cu-s  name  Gadwell,  get  your  men  to- 
gcthcr,  it  is  a  surprise,"  the  Frenchuun  cr.c^l  to 
?hc  young  commandant.    In  conhrmat.on  of  h  s 
words  a  scream  of  terror  arose  (ro,n  the  gate 
Through  which  the  whole  Indian  band  was  now 
pouring  into  the  enclosure,  and  l.ke  an  echo  w,  d 
and  shrill,  and  ringing  w.th  a  fierce  blood  lust, 
the  veluiuL'  war-whoop  tore  the  evemng  peace. 
'  Jadwell,  alert  at  last,  although  cold  at  heart 
with  the  realisation  of  his  ,rre,r,evable  blundc  , 
snapped  out  quick,  short  orders  trymg  to  rally  l«s 
seaSered  little  forces.    He  was  not  gtven  t,me 

even  to  recognise  how  f"'''\»".''\'f °,, 
an  Indian  bullet  crashed  mto  h.s  skull  and  he  fell 

'"mtene  that  followed  was  one  of  horrid 
butchery.  Some  of  the  men  managed  to  reach 
their  rifles  and  bringing  down  a  few  of  the.r  r  d 
foes  before  they,  themselves,  fell.  But  the  sur- 
prise  had  been  too  complete,  the  attack  too  udden 
and  unexpected,  and  only  one  man  m  all  that 
mtle  white  companv  fought  with  a  cool  bram  and 


136         THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


a  steady  eye.  De  Boncour,  kneeling  on  the 
ground,  fired  and  reloaded  and  fired  again,  each 
bullet  finding  its  mark  until  his  powder-horn  was 
empty.  'Ilien  with  his  rifle  clubbed  and  swinging 
like  a  flail,  he  leaped  out  among  the  massed  In- 
dians. Two  men  he  added  to  his  accou  before  he 
sank  under  the  rain  of  hatchets  and  tf  ^calp  was 
torn  from  his  skull.  The  men  had  now  all  fallen 
and  the  red  fury  of  the  enraged  warriors  began  to 
wreak  its  infernal  way  upon  the  women  and  chil- 
dren. Old  women  and  young  girls  huddled  to- 
gether, were  dragged  from  among  their  compan- 
ions half  dead  with  terror,  their  long  hair  twisted 
in  the  sinewy  grip  of  a  brave,  and  the  scalp  knife 
driven  into  their  skulls,  ere  they  fell  to  the  ground. 
Little  children  were  tomahawked  as  they  clung 
to  their  mothers'  skirts,  or  ran  screaming,  seeking 
escape  where  there  was  no  escape. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  carnage  stood  one,  still, 
silent  figure.  Rushing  Water  had  been  foremost 
in  the  onset,  had  fought  with  a  gay  impetuosity 
while  there  was  fighting  to  do,  but  now  that  the 
white  men  were  huddled  corpses,  and  knife  and 
tomahawk  were  doing  wild  and  bloody  work 
among  defenseless  women  and  little  children,  he 
stopped,  wide-eyed  with  horror,  sick  with  repug- 
nance. Few  of  his  companions  engrossed  in  their 
cruel  exercise,  noted  the  strange  conduct  of  the 


THE  CRYSTAI.  ROOD  i37 

chief  of  their  party.  In-t  those  who  did  so  mar- 
veled.   Ish-tt»-ba  was  amotiK  these  latter. 

*'Man-who.walks-with-his-toes-turned.out,"  he 

yelled  as  he  ran  by,  "does  the  sight  of  blood 
sicken  your  white  heart 

The  taunt  attracted  Hushinji  Water's  attentuMi. 
He  saw  a  little  fl^rure  clothed  in  frin^ncl  deerskin, 
and  with  lon^^,  chestnut  hair  Hoating  on  the  breeze, 
in  swift  flight  through  the  open  gate  of  the  stock- 
ade,  and  behind  her  in  full  pursuit,  with  bloody 
tomahawks  waving,  were  Ish-to-ba  and  another 
brave.  The  sight  electrified  him  and  with  a  spring 
he  darted  after  them.    The  white  girl  was  tlect- 
footed  and  she  almost  reached  the  river  bank  be- 
fore  her  pursuers  overtook  her.    Indeed,  she 
would  have  made  good  her  escape  had  she  not 
tripped  and  fallen  headlong  over  a  broken  bough 
in  her  path.   With  a  yell  of  fierce  exultation.  Ish- 
to-ba  swooped  down  upon  her.    Catching  her  ha.r 
close  to  her  skull,  he  dragged  her  to  her  knees. 

Rushing  Water  saw  the  rarely  beautiful  face  of 
the  girl  uplifted  in  appeal  and  her  hands  clasped 
in  supplication.  An  instant  later  his  grip  was  on 
Ish-to-ba's  shoulder  and  that  surprised  warrior 
found  himself  spun  round  like  a  top.  The  girl's 
hair  had  slipped  from  his  relaxed  lingers,  but  with 
the  tomahawk  whose  blow  he  had  intended  for  the 
delicate  girl,  he  delivered  a  fierce  sweep  at  Rush- 


,38        THli  CRVSI  AI.  KOOI) 

i„2  Water',  brow.  The  hatchet  LisscJ  .hrough 
Tmpty  air.  Swift  as  a  serpent,  Uush.ng  Water 
had  swerved  frcim  its  dcscemlmi.  path. 

'  Tis  . la- third  tiMK^lsh..o.ln.'  l.es;.d  K^^^^^^^^^ 
„,n,u«h  his  set  teeth,  as  he  bur.ed  h.,  hunt.ng 
kni  fe  to  tl>e  hilt  in  the  heart  of  the  InJ.an. 

Voung  War  Eagle,  who  had  beheld  th,s  see,  e 
in  a  very  paralysis  of  amazement,  now  w,.ke  to 
f^riou,,  vengeful 

at  Rushing  Water,  his  war-hatehet  upra.sed  But 

L  young  chief  was  too  'I- •^"1.^": 
terouslv  avoiding  his  onset,  fellea  him  with  a 
l;"^  of  the  tomahawk  that  smote  like  a  thunder- 

"'"velps  of  surprise  and  fury  came  now  from  the 
dirertfon  of  the  fort,  an,l  Rushing  Water  hlt.ng 
W  tyes  saw  the  whole  Indian  band  strcunung 
down  upon  hin..  He  turned  and  looked  for  the 
,°Iwhom  he  had  rescued.  She  had  taken  advan- 
'age  of  his  intervention  to  gain  the  r.yer  bank  and 
was  now  pushing  o«  from  the  shore  f  > 

long  canoes.  Picking  up  his  r.lle  wh.ch  he  1>.k1 
dropped  in  the  encounter  with  the  two  Ind.ans 

Rus  ing  Water  leaped  into  the  r.ver.   Its  current 
rai'dly  bearing  the  canoe  dow^n  stream.  Ho^d- 

•„,,,  ,1,1  riHe  above  his  head  w.th  one  hand,  the 

young  chief  swam  rapidly  in  pursu,.  of  he  bo  . 

Twenty  vigorous  strokes  brought  htm  alongside. 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  I39 

I  le  thrust  his  rifle  \mo  the  canoe,  which  he  guM 
to  a  little  islet  in  the  middle  of  the  river. 

The  Indians  had  gathered  at  the  bank  and  were 
discharging  their  rifles  at  him,  the  bullets  hittnH: 
the  water  near  by  with  a  vicious  spat,  r-teadym^' 
the  boat  on  the  beach.  Rushing  Water  clambered 
\ntn  it  and  then  with  the  iiuick  and  powerful  thrust 
(,f  his  paddle,  sent  it  speeding  down  the  Stream. 
Half  a  dozen  bt.ats  were  already  m  pursuit,  but 
the  skill  and  strength  of  Rushing  Water  with  tl- 
paddle  were  long  well  known  amonK  his  cor? 
panions,  and  a  note  of  furious  disappon  tnient 
was  already  m\nu,\\n\r  with  their  cnes  ot  rage 
and  ven^a-ance.    Their  rillenien  still  hred  upon 
him  and  Rushing  Water  warily  watchmg  them 
over  his  shoulder  as  his  bark  shot  down  the  stream 
under  the  strong,  steady  thrust  of  h»s  paddle, 
reached  forward  from  ti.ne  to  time  to  crush  down 
into  the  bottom  ot  the  boat  with  his  left  hand, 
the  frightened  girl  who  sat  hetore  hun.  One 
bullet,  better  aimed  than  the  rest,  tore  the  smooth 
skin  of  his  shoulder  but  that  was  his  narrowest 
escape. 

The  steady  swinging  of  his  paddle  never 
ceased.  Smaller  and  smaller  in  Ins  sight  grew 
the  pursuing  canoes,  and  fainter  and  tamter  the 
cries,  until  at  la^t  the  crimson  river  grew  dull 
brown  and  the  night  fell  upon  them. 


CHAPTER  XII 


UNDERSTANDING 

Arrow-fleet,  on  the  swift  running  breast  of  the 
'ark  Allegheny,  that  fugitive  canoe  sped  its  south- 
ard course.  Like  the  steady  beat  of  a  piece  of 
machinery,  Rushing  Water's  paddle  rose  and  fell, 
rose  and  fell,  unceasing  through  the  dark  hours. 
On  a  rug  of  bear  skin  at  the  bottom  of  the  bark, 
crouched  the  quivering  figure  of  Valerie.  With 
eager,  straining  eyes  that  sought  to  read  through 
the  gloom  some  hint  as  to  her  fate,  the  pri 
watched  the  dark  figure  in  the  stern  of  the  canoe. 
She  could  not  sec  his  features  in  the  gloom  and 
he  did  not  speak  to  her,  but  as  the  hours  wore 
on  and  the  beating  paddle  rose  and  fell  without 
cessation,  something  in  the  swift  certainty  of  the 
brave's  rhythmical  sweep  of  his  cedar  blade  began 
to  allay  the  wild  terror  in  her  heart. 

She  saw  the  lantern's  dim  glimmer  at  Fort  Pitt, 
as  their  swift  canoe,  under  the  combined  compul- 
sion of  the  paddle  thrust  and  the  hurried  current 
of  the  river  in  flood,  swept  round  the  bend  and 

140 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


141 


out  upon  the  Ohio's  wider  reaches.  For  a  while 
she  hoped  against  hope  that  her  captor  would  land 
her  there,  for  she  knew  that  there  were  white  men 
garrisoning  that  post.  The  somber  waterman, 
however,  did  not  even  glance  at  the  twinkling 
lights  but  held  his  rapid  course.  The  sky  was 
overcast,  only  showing  pale  patches  where  the 
moon  was  breaking  through.  A  sudden  rift  let 
down  a  flood  of  wan  light  upon  the  river,  and 
an  English  sentry,  pacing  the  shore,  caught  a  Hash- 
ing glimpse  of  a  spectral  bark,  propelled  by  a 
ghostly  oarsman,  before  the  torn  cloud  curtains 
were  drawn  together  and  darkness  blotted  out  the 
apparition.  He  awakened  a  non-commissioned 
officer  and  reported,  but  the  sleepy  subaltern 
cursed  him  for  a  superstitious,  drunken  wight 
whose  fancy  was  playing  him  tricks,  and  returned 
to  his  interrupted  slumber. 

So  Valeric  beheld  witb  dying  hope  the  lights 
of  the  fortress  fading  from  her  view.  Her  mind 
was  busy  with  speculations.  Why  had  this  young 
brave  saved  her?  Why  had  he  killed  his  two 
companions  in  her  behalf?  What  was  the  mys- 
tery of  so  ama/ing  an  interposition  between  her 
and  a  frightful  death?  Terror  and  exhaustion 
overcame  her  at  last.  The  soft  swish  of  the  river 
and  the  steady  beat  of  the  paddle  were  soothing 
influences,  and  the  little  body  gradually  relaxed 


142         THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


and  sank  lower  and  lower  on  its  couch  of  furs. 
She  slept  a  troubled  sleep.  Sobs,  deep  and  vio- 
lent, shook  breast  and  shoulders.  The  tender 
outstretched  limbs  twitched  spasmodically.  Now 
and  again  a  low  moan  would  break  from  iicr  lips, 
as  the  spell  of  horror  cast  upon  her  bright,  young 
spirit  by  the  events  of  the  day  struggled  for 
mastery  with  the  soothing  influence  of  slumber. 
Once  she  awakened,  paralyzed  with  fear  and 
bathed  in  cold  perspiration,  with  the  conscious- 
ness of  a  presence  close  to  her.  She  saw  her  cap- 
tor standing  above  her.  Before  she  could  scream 
he  had  gently  placed  over  her  body  a  blanket 
of  beaver  skins.  Unconscious  of  the  fact  that  he 
had  awakened  her,  he  stepped  silently  back  to  his 
seat  in  the  stern,  and  again  she  heard  the  stcatiy 
beat  of  his  padciie  and  felt  the  forward  thrust  of 
the  canoe.  Her  leaden  eyelids  fell  and  slumber 
once  more  possessed  her. 

The  day  had  broken  and  the  forest  was  musi- 
cal with  the  song  of  birds,  when  returning  con- 
sciousness brought  the  old  horror  back  to  her 
heart.  She  was  still  lying  in  the  canoe,  but  the 
boat  seemed  motionless.  Raising  her  head  she 
saw  that  it  had  been  pulled  out  upon  the  shei\  ing 
river  bank.  She  looked  around  for  the  Indian. 
He  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  A  new  terror  came 
upon  her.   Fearful  as  she  had  been  of  this  savage 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  i4:> 


in  whose  power  she  was,  she  now  felt  in  her  licart 
the  loss  of  a  protector.  Somethinj;  deeper  than 
her  reason  toKl  her  that  however  mysterious  the 
motives  that  actuated  it,  this  young  Indian's  atti- 
tude toward  her  was  one  of  friendliness  and  pro- 
tection. Consequently  she  felt  the  sense  of  the 
new  bereavement  coupled  with  the  chilling  fear 
of  this  vast  wiKlerness,  which  despite  its  aspect 
of  peace  and  beauty,  held  daiigers  of  whose  cruel 
and  deadly  character  she  was  now  only  too  sen- 
sible. 

She  arose  and  ^^tnod  unsteadily  on  the  beach. 
Her  arms  and  '  re  stiff  and  pain-racked.  In 

the  hope  of  res  r  ,  her  blood  to  a  normal  state 
of  circulation  s  alked  a  few  hundred  paces 
into  the  woods,  then  she  stopped  with  a  start.  A 
strange  sound  had  struck  upon  her  ear.  Advanc- 
ing cautiously  she  came  upon  an  opening  among 
the  trees.  In  its  center,  face  down,  lay  her  captor, 
his  splendid  shoulders  shaken  by  \  iolent  sobbing. 
Here  was  a  new  amazement.  The  daughter  of  a 
fur  trader  and  the  niece  of  one  of  the  best-known 
of  the  T  rench  adventurers  of  the  woods,  this  girl 
knew  something  of  the  Indian  character.  She 
was  familiar  with  their  stoicism.  She  knew  that 
their  hearts  and  nerves  were  steeled  against  the 
gentler  emotions.  Yet  here  lay  a  young  warrior, 
who  had  taken  part  in  a  ferocious  onset  and  a 


144         THE  CRVSrVL  ROOD 


hideous  massacre,  giving  way  to  some  agony  of 
heart  in  a  flood  of  bitter  tears. 

Like  a  garment  that  is  flung  aside,  all  fear  fell 
from  her  spirit  and  j^ratitude  for  the  deed  that 
had  rescued  her  from  death  mingled  now  with 
the  young  girl's  warm  sympathy  for  a  suffering 
human  being.  Stepping  softly  to  his  side  she 
placed  her  little  hand  upon  his  quivering  shoulder. 
At  the  friendly  touch  the  agitation  of  his  body 
ceased.  He  slowly  raised  himself  upon  his  elbow 
and  looked  up  from  under  his  wet  lashes  into  her 
pitying  eyes. 

It  was  the  first  clear  vision  she  had  of  his  face 
and  she  noted  with  surprise  the  ample  forehead 
and  the  level  brow,  the  straight,  well-modeled 
nose,  so  different  from  the  usual  flattened  nose 
of  the  Indian,  the  firm  lips  and  the  cleft  chin,  and 
above  all  the  frank  friendliness  and  absolute  trust- 
worthiness that  shone  in  the  dark  brown  eyes.  A 
quick  joy  came  upon  her  spirit.  There  was  bond 
for  her  safety  in  those  features.  The  sudden- 
ness and  completeness  of  her  relief  opened  the 
flood-gates  of  her  soul  that  had  been  frozen  by 
despair,  and  from  her  own  eyes  tears  came 
streaming  now,  as  she  buried  her  face  in  her 
hands.  Slowly  Rushing  Water  rose  to  his  feet. 
A  look  of  pain  and  perplexity  came  over  his  face. 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  145 


For  a  few  minutes  he  stood  watching  the  little 
weeping  figure.  Then  in  his  turn  he  became  the 
comforter,  and  as  she  lifted  her  eyes  ut  the  re- 
assuring touch  of  his  hand  upon  her  shoulder,  he 
shook  his  head  slowly  and  held  out  to  her  the  hilt 
of  his  knife,  opening  the  breast  of  his  hunting 
shirt  and  baring  his  heart  as  a  sign  to  her  that  he 
would  place  his  life  in  her  hands.  Like  a  ray  of 
pale  sunshine  through  an  April  shower,  a  wan, 
bright  smile  shone  through  Valerie's  tears,  as  with 
a  negative  shake  of  her  little  head  she  refused  the 
proffered  knife.  Rushing  Water  thrust  It  into  his 
belt,  looked  shrewdly  into  her  face  to  assure  him- 
self her  apprehension  had  vanished,  and  then, 
beckoning  to  her  to  follow,  walked  down  toward 
the  canoe. 

That  birch  vessel,  built  to  carry  eight  warriors, 
had  been  well  stocked  for  the  journey,  and 
the  young  man  drew  from  it  corn  and  strips 
of  dried  deer  meat.  This,  washed  down  '^y 
the  river  water,  served  for  breakfast.  As  they 
were  eating  Valerie  held  up  a  piece  of  meat  in  her 
hand. 

"Meat,"  she  said  in  her  own  language. 

Rushing  Water's  eyes  brightened  and  he  re- 
peated the  word  after  her.  She  dipped  a  wooden 
bowl  in  the  river. 


146    *    THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 

"Eau!"  she  said,  indicating  with  one  finger  the 
clear  liquid  in  the  wooden  vessel. 

Then  with  a  quick  smile  he  pointed  to  his  own 
breast  and  exclaimed: 


CHAPTER  XIII 


ELAN  d'EAU 

Youth  and  health  make  a  brave  battle  of  It  with 
hardship  and  sorrow.    Although  the  loss  of  her 
uncle  was  great  grief  to  her,  and  the  dreadful 
massacre  of  which  she  had  been  a  witness  was 
indelibly  stamped  upon  her  memory,  Valerie  de 
Boncour  began,  little  by  little,  to  recover  from 
the  effects  of  the  one  and  the  other.    Now  that 
she  no  longer  feared  her  companion,  the  events 
of  her  journey  began  to  appeal  to  her  healthy 
interest  and  curiosity.    Rushing  Water  was  an 
enigma  to  her,  and  what  girl  of  seventeen  has  not 
had  her  curiosity  piqued  by  a  mystery,  particu- 
larly when  that  mystery  entered  her  life  sur- 
rounded by  every  circumstance  of  romance  and 
was  personified  in  a  young  man  whose  physical 

attractiveness  was  undeniable? 

That  there  was  still  danger  to  be  apprehended 

Rushing  Water's  precautions  made  very  evident. 

In  the  first  few  days  of  their  flight  they  subsisted 

upon  such  stores  of  food  as  had  been  stocked  in 

147 


148        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


their  canoe.  Rushing  Water  made  no  fires,  whose 
telltale  smoke  might  betray  their  whereabouts  to 

a  searching  foe.  They  traveled  for  the  most 
part  at  night,  hidden  in  the  woods'  covert  during 
the  day  time.  The  landing  places  were  selected 
with  the  utmost  care.  River  weeds  and  under- 
brush were  gently  pushed  aside  that  the  canoe 
might  be  hidden  among  them  and  that  none  might 
be  broken  to  mark  the  trail.  During  these  early 
days  of  the  journey  Rushing  Water  spoke  little. 
Although  he  did  not  again  give  way  to  the  emotion 
of  grief  in  which  Valerie  had  surprised  him  that 
first  morning,  the  girl  conjectured  from  the  sad- 
ness that  sat  upon  his  features  and  was  shadowed 
in  his  eyes  that  he  was  suffering  deep  distress. 
Very  rarely,  when  she  taught  him  a  word  or  two 
in  French  by  associating  the  word  with  some  con- 
crete example,  a  smile  of  understanding  would, 
for  an  instant,  light  up  his  countenance.  She 
found  him  an  apt  pupil,  however,  quick  to  grasp 
her  meaning,  and  their  journey  was  yet  young 
when  they  were  able  to  exchange  some  few  ideas 
in  French.  Rushing  Water  guarded  the  stores 
carefully,  however.  He  wished  neither  to  lose 
the  time  nor  risk  the  danger  of  hunting  in  the  field 
of  Pontiac's  operations.  His  own  easy  success  at 
Venango,  coupled  with  his  unshaken  confidence 
in  the  power  of  the  Indian  federation,  led  him 


THE  CRYSIAL  ROOD  149 


to  expect  that  the  warriors  would  descend  the 
river  in  force,  and  his  first  object  was  to  speed 
as  fast  and  as  far  as  possible  from  those  who 
had  been  so  lately  his  companions  and  allies. 

So  he  watched  with  anxious  eyes  the  diminish- 
ing store  of  parched  corn  and  strips  of  deer  nf«at, 
while  he  listened  with  all  his  senses  alert  for  the 
echoing  war-whoop  that  might  betoken  the  pres- 
ence of  a  foe  in  his  vicinity. 

The  waters  upon  which  they  journeyed,  now 
southerly,  now  westerly,  widened  as  they  pro- 
ceeded. The  ever  widening  reaches  of  the  stream 
flowed  smoothly  through  dense  forests.  These 
were  all  tender  green  with  the  advancing  spring, 
and  birds  and  four-footed  things  were  numerous 
in  their  recesses.  Often  their  ghostly  approach 
in  the  pallid  dawn  frightened  herds  of  elk  and 
moose  from  the  banks  of  the  river,  or  sent  the 
wild  birds  fluttering  in  frightened  flocks.  More 
than  once  Rushing  Water  laid  his  hand  on  his 
rifle,  but  caution  restrained  him,  and  he  refrained 
from  the  tempting  target. 

But  the  provision  bags  were  empty  at  last  and 
they  were  still  in  a  land  where  the  crash  of  a 
rifle  might  bring  the  warriors  upon  them.  An- 
other expedient  must  be  found.  The  wood  train- 
ing of  the  man  stood  him  in  good  stead  now. 
Valerie  saw  him  one  morning  returning  to  the 


I50         THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


canoe  in  which  she  was  just  waking,  with  a  long 
wand  in  his  hand.  That  day,  as  they  hid  among 
the  trees,  he  cut  a  piece  of  deer-hide  into  long, 
thin  ribhons,  which  he  slowly  and  carefully  braided 
into  a  cord.  Then  he  noted  the  ends  of  the  thick 
rod,  and  exerting  his  great  strength  he  bent  it 
against  his  knee.  By  signs  he  made  her  under- 
stand that  he  wished  her  to  fasten  the  ends  of  his 
cord  to  the  extremities  of  the  wand.  With  a 
smile  of  comprehension,  she  fitted  the  string  to  his 
improvised  bow.  He  bound  the  ends  in  securely, 
and  with  another  piece  of  deer-skin  fashioned  an 
arrow  rest.  The  rest  of  the  day  he  spent  in  cut- 
ting and  trimming  arrows.  He  hardened  the 
points  of  these  over  a  fire  he  had  built  on  a 
rock.  When  he  had  finished  a  dozen  of  these 
shafts,  he  carefully  stowed  them  in  the  boat 
with  his  improvised  bow,  and  then  laboriously 
set  to  work  to  cover  up  his  trail.  The 
tree  he  had  chopped  down  with  his  war  hatchet 
had  been  cut  from  its  roots  a  few  inches  below 
the  ground.  Into  the  hole  Rushing  Water  thrust 
the  leaves  and  unused  branches.  Over  them  he 
piled  the  earth  and  screened  the  fresh  clay  with 
dried  leaves  and  dead  twigs,  so  artfully  placed 
that  even  a  practised  eye  would  not  suspect  that 
they  had  not  fallen  as  they  lay. 

The  remains  of  the  fire  were  similarly  buried 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  151 


and  covered  up.  It  was  evening  when  this  labor- 
ious task  was  at  an  cmi.  As  the  man  and  the  girl 
entered  the  canoe  to  resume  their  journey.  Rush- 
ing Water's  brow  was  puckered  with  perplexity- 
At  last  his  eyes  brightened  and  he  reached  up  and 
took  the  lone  eagle  feather  from  his  scalp-lock. 
For  a  minute  ho  looked  at  it  thoughtfully.  I  hen 
with  a  sigh  and  a  shrug  of  his  shouklers,  he  fitted 
it  in  the  slit  he  had  cut  in  the  butt  of  one  of  his 
arrows.  He  was  discarding  his  chieftain's  badge, 
and  there  was  a  look  in  his  face  that  showed  he 
knew  it  was  forever.  What  his  future  might  be, 
there  was  no  means  of  his  knowing,  but  the  only 
path  that  might  seem  open  to  an  outcast  Indian 
was  a  lonely  life  in  forests  far  from  those  in  which 
his  own  people  dwelt. 

Valerie  noted  the  look,  and  although  she  could 
not  fathom  its  cause,  she  knew  intuitively  that 
some  pang  attended  the  sacrifice  of  the  feather. 
Her  own  eyes  grew  soft  with  syrr.pathy.  The 
lonely  river  was  rosy  in  the  light  from  a  scarlet 
sky,  and  she  was  very  beautiful  in  the  soft  pink 
glow.  Rushing  Water,  raising  his  eyes  from  his 
work,  surprised  her  glance  fixed  upon  him.  A  soft 
blush  deepened  the  glow  in  her  cheeks.  The  chief 
flung  down  his  arrow  and  seizing  his  paddle  thrust 
it  into  the  river. 

Fish,  caught  while  she  was  still  asleep,  fur- 


152         Tin:  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


nished  a  breakfast  for  Valerie  the  next  morninpr. 
With  his  corn  and  dried  meat  Ronc.  lu  r  protector 

was  c(»ni|HH(  (l  (()  \'cnturf  another  tire  1^'  the  neces- 
sity ol  e()()k!n;r  ircsh  food.    He  hail  tleaneil  the 
fresh-caijgiit  fish  and  was  broiling  it  on  the  einl'ers 
when  she  opened  her  eyes.   After  the  meal,  Rush- 
ing Water  bade  the  girl  remain  by  the  canoe  while 
he  slipped  into  the  woods.    At  the  water's  edge 
where  the  hank  bowed  in  just  below  them,  a  cow 
moose  and  her  calf  were  feedinjj.    N'alerie,  watch- 
ing, saw  Hushing  Water  glide  out  of  the  forest 
at  the  other  horn  of  the  crescent.    His  bow  and 
arrow  were  in  his  hand.   Sfie  saw  him  fit  the  shaft 
to  the  bow.  Then  slowly  he  drew  the  string  upon 
which  the  arrow  butt  rested  across  his  body  and 
back  to  liis  right  shouMcr.  his  left  hand  gripping 
the  bent  bow  in  the  middle.    The  strii^i;  was  re- 
leased and  the  arrow  sped.    The  marksmanship 
was  perfect.    The  calf,  pierced  just  back  of  the 
shoulder,  staggered  and  fell.    The  cow  lifted  a 
frightened  head,  snuffed  the  morning  air,  and 
plunged  into  the  woods. 

Rushing  Water  killed  the  wounded  cnl  'th  his 
knite  ami  retrieved  the  arrow.  Swiftly  aiui  Jcftly 
he  skinneil  the  game  and  quartered  it.  I  he  meat 
served  for  the  noon  and  evening  meals,  and  pro- 
vided a  store  against  the  morrow.  The  follow- 
ing day  Rushing  Water  managed  to  bring  down 


THi:   -RYSTAL  RCX^D  i?3 


a  wild  duck,  which  not  onlv  *vorved  as  fm»  i-f 
furnished  him  with  fcathirs  fnr  His  oth  r  arr.m- 
That  evcninfi  as  they    ■^[m  t\h       »ctii  \\ 

voyage,  Valerie  smil7ti|;ly  |M.i=ii  jd      r  anger  at 
her  companifi. 
"A\    /"  she  s.i  ' 

The  yoiin^  man  u'.in  1  ar  the  rivt  •  and  smiled. 
"Elan,"  said  \  alerit    still  po  n mt;  at  him. 

"Ehn  d'Eau." 

In  her  eafiferness  she  Icancii  '»r  \;u  i.l  ul  tlicrc 
fell  from  f  !m)s m  of  her  j.  i  'in  golden 
cnn  the  J  >^  wl.  ii  en<  i\  her  i  k.  As 
the  nli^'bt  j;linted  u]  :i  it,  Uushing  Water 
star!  .1,  his       s  u  .  t  v  rh  curiosity. 

"Totem!"  ne  sa,  ■  pointing  at  the  glittering 
symbol  which  la\   ipon  her  rca>c. 

SI.  '  tciok  tiic      'ss  in  '.ic'  'inn=!. 

"A       she  sai  ,  "the  cros 

"'I  !     cro^<."  the  chief  rcpea  d. 

I  he.i  he  pau  ed  out  into  the  dusk,  his  iace  very 
thoujjjhtful 

Tf'  wer  six  days  on  their  journey  now  and 
Rjsh  tcr's  vigilance  hegan  to  relax.  Al- 

th^unr  till  deePHil  it  prudent  to  travel  hy 

nil-  18  less  e  ireful  in  covering  his  trail. 

lie  l(»sing  her  fear  of  the  wilderness  when 

-  c  r^        la  sudden  notice  that  its  dangers 

re  stiii  ical  and  dose  at  hand.    Beaching  his 


154        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


bark  one  morning,  Rushing  Water  made  the  usual 
preparations  for  sleep.  His  canoe  hidden,  he 
advanced  into  the  woods,  prepared  the  morning 
meal,  and,  after  it  had  been  eaten,  threw  him- 
self on  the  ground  for  rest.  The  girl,  who  had 
slept  during  the  night  journey,  sat  beside  him,  on 
guard.  Almost  instantly  Rushing  Water  slept. 
The  morning  sun  slowly  mounted,  flecking  with 
gold  the  carpeted  forest.  The  hum  of  birds  and 
insects  made  drowsy  music.  Save  for  this  the 
woods  seemed  silent,  lonely,  void  of  human  life. 

All  fear  lulled,  Valerie  watched  the  brilliant 
wild  flowers,  and  dreamed  of  her  far-away  home. 
Suddenly,  as  her  glance  lifted  to  follow  the  flight 
of  a  yellow  butterfly,  a  cold  chill  shot  through  her 
breast.  From  behind  a  tree  trunk  a  rifle  pro- 
truded, and  above  it  glistened  a  pair  of  cruel, 
black  eyes,  set  in  a  dark  face.  The  Indian,  meet- 
ing her  glance,  stepped  from  his  cover,  his  piece 
covering  the  sleeping  warrior.  A  half  smothered 
cry  broke  from  Valerie.  At  the  sound  Rushing 
Water  sprang  to  his  feet  but  the  rifle  was  pressed 
against  his  chest,  and  he  had  no  need  to  question 
the  intent  in  the  gleaming  eyes  above  it.  He  threw 
up  his  hand  in  the  Indian  signal  of  peace,  but  the 
stratiger  did  not  lower  his  rifle. 

"Who  is  the  warrior  with  the  white  captive?" 
he  asked. 


rHE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  155 


Valerie  listened  eagerly  to  the  words,  none  of 
which  she  understood. 

"Minncsink!"  answered  the  Ottawawa. 
"Of  what  nation?" 
"Of  the  people  of  the  Otter." 
"Hal   Pontiac's  son?" 

A  Hg^t  of  satisfaction  gleamed  in  the  stranger's 
eyes. 

"It  is  true,"  Rushing;  Water  answered. 
A  sneer  curled  the  lip  of  the  rillcman. 
"We  have  heard  among  the  Illinois  that  the 
Ottawawas  are  on  the  war-path?"  he  said. 
"It  is  true." 

"And  that  the  son  of  the  great  chief  of  the 
North  turned  traitor  to  his  people,  and  let  a 
white  maiden  take  him  captive.    This  is  she?" 

Rushing  Water  ignorcel  tiic  taunt.  lie  li:ul 
been  studying  shrewdly  the  features  of  the  Illi- 
nois brave.  Now,  instead  of  a  direct  reply  he 
began  a  narrative. 

"Once,"  he  said,  "there  was  an  Illinois  warrior 
taken  by  Pontiac's  people.  I  le  was  doomed  to 
run  the  lane  of  death.  A  hoy  of  the  Ottawawas 
gave  him  drink  and  food,  and  comfort  in  his 
need." 

The  Illinois  leaned  forward  eagerly,  studying 
the  features  of  the  man  against  whose  breast  his 
rifle  was  pressed.   An  instant  amazement  and  un- 


156        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


belief  struggled  in  his  eyes.  Then  his  rifle 
dropped  to  the  ground. 

"The  dream  face!"  he  cried. 

Rushing  Water  made  no  reply. 

The  Illinois  plucked  from  his  belt  knife  and 
hatchet  and  held  them  out. 

"My  life  belongs  to  my  brother,"  he  said. 

"He  wants  it  now  no  more  than  he  wanted  it 
then,"  said  Rushing  Water,  waving  back  the 
proffered  weapons.  "But  let  my  brother  say  what 
he  does  in  these  woods." 

"I  am  a  runner.  I  go  to  say  to  the  great  chief 
of  the  Ottawawas  that  my  people  hasten  to  join 
him  before  Detroit." 

"How  far  behind  you  is  the  war  party?" 

"Three  sleeps,"  the  runner  replied.  "They 
come  in  canoes.  Let  my  brother  beware;  they 
are  not  in  his  debt." 

"Rushing  Water  thanks  his  brother,"  said  the 
young  warrior.    "He  will  be  wary.  Farewell!" 

He  bent  his  hcail  gravely. 

"l  arewelll"  said  the  Illinois. 


CHAPTER  XIV 


THE  ISLAND 

Valerie,  crouched  low  in  the  canoe  and  cold 

V  t;  apprehension,  breathed  a  little  tremulous 
sigh  of  relief  as  Rushing  Water's  shadow  fell 
across  the  boat.  He  stepped  noiselessly  to  his 
place  at  the  stern,  his  finger  laid  aeross  his  lips 
to  enjoin  silence  upon  the  girl.  Carefully  he 
shoved  the  boat  from  the  beach,  and,  without 
using  his  paddle,  let  it  silently  drift  with  the  cur- 
rent, ills  glance  sweeping  -ip  and  down  the  river 
bank  and  his  rifle  acr  !  s  knees.  They  had 
drifted  an  hour  before  h  "  .  his  weapon  slip  to  the 
bottom  of  the  canoe  and  seized  the  paddle.  With 
a  quick  and  steady  stroke,  he  accelerated  the  speed 
of  the  bark,  his  restless  glance  shifting  from  the 
banks  by  which  they  slowly  traveled  to  the  broad 
reaches  of  water  abo\  e  and  below.  .Alarmed  by 
his  conduct,  \'alerie  at  length  broke  the  silence. 
In  answer  to  the  (]uestion  that  was  more  intelli- 
gible to  him  by  her  tone  than  by  the  words  she 
used.  Rushing  Water  said: 

»57 


158        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


"Indian!" 

The  old  look  of  terror  returned  to  the  girl's 
brown  eyes. 

"How  many?"  she  asked. 

Rushing  Water  shook  his  head. 

The  girl  lay  back  in  the  canoe,  while  Rushing 
Water  steadily  propelled  them  down  the  stream. 
At  last  she  heard  him  give  utterance  to  a  low  cry 
of  satisfaction,  and  raising  her  head  saw  a  heav- 
ily wooded  island  splitting  the  current  in  the  cen- 
ter of  the  stream.  Again  taking  his  rifle  across 
his  knees,  the  young  man  warily  approached  the 
island.  Several  times  he  made  its  circuit  in  con- 
stantly !  arrowing  circles,  ready  to  take  flight  at 
the  first  indication  of  the  presence  of  Indians  in 
its  boskage.  Even  when  he  rfiot  the  brow  of  his 
boat  at  last  under  the  overhanging  branches, 
whose  leaves  trailed  in  the  water,  he  proceeded 
with  the  utmost  caution.  Pulling  his  bark  out  on 
the  beach,  ho  signed  to  the  girl  not  to  move,  and 
slipped  quietly  in  among  the  trees.  When  he  re- 
turned to  the  boat  he  had  explored  the  entire  isl- 
and and  satisfied  himself  that  it  was  uninhabited. 
Then  he  began  the  preparation  for  the  morning 
meal. 

Rushing  Water's  examination  of  the  secluded 
piece  of  land  determined  his  future  conduct.  At 
the  easterly  end  it  was  buttressed  against  the 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


stream  by  two  huge  boulders,  great  monuments 
of  the  glacial  drift  deposited  in  the  river-bed  ages 
ago.  Against  these  the  current  rolled  with  con- 
siderable force,  the  waters  being  thrust  to  right 
and  left.  Behind  the  boulders  the  eddies  of  cen- 
turies had  builded  up  the  island  of  ric'i,  alluvial 
soil  in  which  every  seed  had  taken  quick  root  and 
every  tree  had  flourished.  Birch,  wild  maple, 
towering  pines  and  great  spreading  oaks  formed 
its  crowded  arborage.  The  soil  was  covered  with 
pine  needles  and  dead  leaves,  and,  except  round 
the  border  where  there  was  a  thick  fringe  of  wild 
laurel  and  tangled  berry  bushes,  the  island  was 
free  of  underbrush.  At  the  westerly  end  of  the 
island,  which  was  some  three  hundred  feet  in 
length,  two  prongs  were  extended  between  which 
lay  a  quiet  basin.  The  southerly  prong  reached 
out  toward  the  south  bank  of  the  river  and  the 
telltale  ripple  indicated  to  the  forest-trained  eyes 
of  Rushing  Water  the  existence  of  a  probable 
ford  between  the  island  at  this  point  and  the 
mainland. 

The  young  man  moored  his  canoe  in  the  basin 
and  made  preparations  for  a  stay  of  several  days 
on  the  island.  Piecing  out  his  meager  store  of 
French  with  quick,  descriptive  pantomime,  he 
managed  to  convey  to  the  mind  of  Valeric  the 
predicament  in  which  they  were.    It  had  occurred 


i6o        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 

to  him  to  elude  Pontiac's  allies,  ascending  the 
river  in  force,  by  making  a  detour  through  the 
forest,  but  two  considerations  argued  against 
such  a  course.    In  the  first  place  the  canoe  would 
have  to  be  abandoned,  and  the  strength  and  en- 
durance and  fitness  for  the  hardship  of  a  forest 
trial  of  the  white  girl  in  his  charge  were  unknown 
quantities  in  the  mind  of  the  young  warrior. 
Again  the  danger  of  discovery  by  the  Indians  was 
greater  among  the  trees  than  upon  the  river, 
where  there  was  a  considerable  area  of  unob- 
structed view.    'I'he  island  afforded  a  refuge  with 
a  reasonable  promise  of  security.    The  need  of 
game  sufficient  for  the  tiatenance  of  a  considerable 
war  party  would  incfae  the  red  men  to  prefer 
the  mamland  for  encampment  rather  than  a  small 
island.    The  covert  was  thick,  and  there  was  no 
reason  why  the  advancing  Illinois  should  suspect 
the  presence,  in  their  near  vicinity,  of  an  enemy 
or  a  victim. 

So  for  two  days  the  little  boat  floated  in  the 
secluded  basin  and  the  young  man  and  the  young 
woman  dwelt  in  the  shade  of  the  great  trees.  Dur- 
ing these  two  days  Valeric  added  considerably  to 
Rushing  Water's  knowledge  of  French.  She  had 
impressed  upon  him  the  name  Elan  d'Eau  which 
was  her  French  version  of  his  Indian  api)e!lation, 
and  he  had  accepted  the  title  with  a  grave  smile 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  i6i 


Now,  as  he  lay  on  the  pine  needles  at  her  little, 
moccasined  feet  while  she  sat  resting  her  back 
against  a  tree  trunk,  there  was  a  soft  swish  of 
wings  and  a  brilliant  little  bird  flashed  across 
their  vision.  Raising  himself  on  his  elbow  Rush- 
ing Water  pointed  to  the  beautiful  little  denizenof 
the  woods. 

"You,"  he  said,  with  one  of  his  rare  smiles. 
"You,  humming  bird." 

The  color  deepened  in  the  girl's  cheeks,  but 
she  laughed  happily  as  she  accepted  the  compli- 
ment. 

The  sun  was  descending  Into  the  heart  of  the 
western  forest  when  Rushing  Water  climbed  a 
huge  oak  that  grew  almost  in  the  center  of  the 
island,  to  sweep  with  his  eyes  the  westerly  reaches. 

Far  down  upon  the  waters  some  moving,  dark 
spots  attracted  his  attention.  As  he  watched,  these 
slowly  took  form  until  he  could  count  six  long 
canoes  breasting  the  river,  (iradually  they  ap- 
proached until  he  could  distinguish  the  forty-eight 
painted  warriors  who  manned  them. 

They  came  abreast  of  the  island  at  last,  keeping 
steadily  on  their  course  in  the  northerly  channel. 
Leaving  Valerie  beside  the  canoe.  Rushing  Water, 
who  had  descended  from  his  perch  in  the  oak,  kept 
pace  with  them  on  the  hank,  lie  breathed  a  sigh 
of  relief  when  they  passed  the  foaming  eddies 


i62        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


swirling  against  the  rocky  buttress  that  formed  the 
northern  wall.  Stretching  himself  at  full  length 
behind  one  of  the  protecting  rocks,  he  followed 
with  his  glance  the  receding  canoes. 

They  were  small  in  his  vision  and  far  away, 
when  through  the  woods  behind  him  there  rang 
out  on  the  air  a  scream  of  terror.  The  cruel,  high, 
ringing,  exultant  whoop  of  several  Indian  voices 
followed  it  like  a  hideous  echo.  Springing  to  his 
feet,  the  young  warrior  plunged  into  the  forest 
gloom,  speeding  as  fleet  as  a  deer  toward  the  spot 
where  he  had  left  Valerie.  He  had  need  of  all 
his  speed. 

Thinking  the  danger  had  passed,  Valerie  had 
imprudently  stepped  out  of  the  covert  of  under- 
brush. Two  hunters  of  the  Illinois  tribe,  who  had 
been  skulking  along  the  southerly  shore,  caught 
a  glimpse  of  the  little  figure  with  the  flood  of 
chestnut  hair,  glorious  in  the  evening  flush.  In- 
stantly they  came  toward  her,  foraing  the  shal- 
lows. She  saw  them  when  they  were  halfway 
across,  and  her  terror  broke  from  her  throat  in 
that  one  long  scream  that  had  startled  Rushing 
Water  at  his  post  among  the  rocks.  She  turned  to 
run  up  the  little  finger  of  soil,  which  the  island 
thrust  out  into  the  river,  but  before  she  reached 
the  shelter  of  the  woods  the  Indians  were  upon 
her.  As  the  foremost  of  them  reached  forward  to 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  163 


grasp  her,  however,  a  rifle  bullet  struck  him  full 
on  the  brow,  and  with  sprawling,  outstretched 
hands,  he  lurched  forward  on  his  face.  The  sec- 
ond brave  checked  himself  in  full  career,  and 
looked  up  to  discover  the  source  of  the  unexpected 
attack.  As  he  did  so,  Rushing  Water's  war- 
hatchet  hissed  through  the  air  and  struck  liim  full 
on  the  chest,  its  blade  cleaving  his  breast  jone. 
An  instant  he  stood,  his  arms  outstretched,  his 
scalping  knife  clattering  to  the  stones  of  the  beach. 
Then  his  body  quivered  and  crumpleil  and  sank,  a 
shapeless  corpse.  Turning  the  body  over,  Rush- 
ing Water  recovered  his  bloody  weapon.  Then 
with  a  sweep  of  his  arm.  he  crushed  the  little 
form  of  the  French  girl  to  his  side  and  ran  with 
her  to  the  canoe.  Dropping  her  in  the  bottom 
of  t'  "  boat,  he  grasped  the  paddle  and  began  his 
fligi.: 

Behind  him  the  wild  war-whoops,  instinct  with 
menace,  were  rising  on  the  evening  air.  The 
scream,  the  exultant  cry  of  their  tribesmen,  and 
the  lashing  crack  of  the  rifle  had  reacheti  the 
ear  of  the  distant  Illinois,  and  in  furious  hurry 
they  came  sweeping  down  the  stream.  Before 
them  sped  the  lone  canoe  slipping  with  ever-in- 
creasing speed  through  the  waters.  Looking  back 
from  time  to  time,  the  fugitive  boatman  could 
see  little  spurts  of  red  flame  in  the  gathering  dusk 


.,w  jWiuaU  I   .  .  4.) 


164 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


and  hear  the  sharp  reports  of  the  pursuers'  ri- 
fles. One  of  the  canoes  of  the  Illinois  drew  ahead 
of  the  other  hoats  in  the  hostile  flotilla  and  the 
little  spurts  of  red  flame  from  the  muzzles  of  the 
rifles  in  this  bark  became  more  distinct,  while  the 
leaden  slugs  kicked  up  the  spray  nearer  and  nearer 
to  the  fugitives.  Rushing  Water  put  all  his 
strength  into  his  arm,  and  the  stroke  of  his  pad- 
dle although  losing  nothing  in  length  became  more 
swift.  Still  as  he  looked  back  over  his  shoulder 
he  saw  more  and  more  distinctly  the  single  bark 
that  still  kept  up  the  pursuit.  The  others  w<^re 
lost  in  the  gloom. 

At  last  the  reason  for  the  exceptional  speed  of 
this  canoe  disclosed  itself.  Instead  of  the  single 
oarsman  customary  in  an  Indian  war  canoe,  two 
warriors  wielded  the  paddles  in  the  Illinois  boat. 
Despite  the  utmost  effort  of  Rushing  Water  they 
were  slowly  gaining  upon  him.  He  could  see  the 
two  other  occupants  of  the  boat  loading  and  firing 
their  rifles.  As  he  bcsit  over  in  the  exertion  of 
propelling  his  canoe,  he  spoke  to  the  girl  lying  at 
the  foot  of  the  boat. 

"Can  the  Humming  Bird  load  a  rifle?"  he  said. 

She  nodded  her  head.  Her  uncle  had  taught 
her  how  to  loaJ  and  handle  fire  arms. 

"Let  the  Humming  Bird  load  my  rifle,"  said  the 
warrior. 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  165 


She  took  the  rifle  in  her  hands.  The  powikr 
horn  was  close  beside  her  and  n-inovinji;  the  plii^ 
at  its  point,  she  let  the  black  grains  run  into  her 
hand,  carefully  tneasuring  out  the  customary 
charge.    Rushing  Water  smiled. 

"More,"  he  said. 

She  doubled  the  charji;e,  and  he  nodded  his 
head  in  satisfaction.  Makinjj;  a  wad  of  tlried 
^rass  she  rammed  home  the  charge  and  took  a 
slug. 

"Two,"  Rushing  Water  directed. 
In  obedience  to  his  command  she  inserted  the 
two  Uillets  and  packed  in  the  covering  wad.  Then 

she  set  the  priininjj;  charge  and  laiil  the  ritle  on 
the  floor  of  the  boat  at  a  point  indicated  by  the 
warrior. 

"Now  let  the  Humming  Bird  move  up  toward 
the  front,"  he  said. 

She  crawled  to  the  bow  of  the  boat.    To  her 

surprise  Rushing  Water  suddenly  stood  up,  his 
paddle  in  his  hand  and  faced  the  pursuers.  In- 
stantly thcie  was  a  crack  of  three  rifles.  The 
warrior  threw  up  his  hands  and  fell  backwanl  into 
the  canoe.  A  shrill  scream  burst  from  V  alerie's 
lips.  He  looked  up  at  her  quickly,  smiling,  and 
then  she  saw  his  hand  close  over  the  rifle. 

The  exultant  whoops  of  the  pursuing  Illinois 
rang  loud  on  the  evening  air.  Still  concealed  from 


i66        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


their  sif^ht  by  the  stern  of  the  drifting  canoe,  Rush* 
ing  Water  turned  swiftly.  In  a  flash  he  was  in  a 
kneehng  position,  the  barrel  of  bis  rlHe  resting 
on  the  stern.  With  a  terrific  report  the  double 
charge  in  his  weapon  exploded.  Precisely  at  the 
water  line  of  the  Illinois  canoe  the  cedar  splin* 
tercd.  The  young  warrior  clutched  hi-  paddle 
and  swiftly  drove  it  into  the  stream.  Bi  bind  hitn 
the  bow  of  the  pursuers'  boat  settled  swiftly.  The 
double  slugs  had  torn  a  great  hole  just  at  the  water 
line,  and  the  river  was  pouring  into  the  bark.  In 
a  few  minutes  the  Illinois  were  swimming  in  the 
stream.  The  weight  of  their  heavy  war  equip- 
ment had  sunk  their  damaged  boat. 

Even  as  the  stricken  canoe  sank,  a  sudden  gloom 
blotted  out  the  sun.  \'ast  columns  of  clouds 
crowded  up  from  the  south  with  great,  foaming 
forefront  and  flashing  fire  hearts,  and  a  long,  low 
roll  of  thunder  broke  the  twilight  silence  of  the 
wooiis.  Short  angry  puffs  whipped  the  surface 
of  the  waters.  At  last  blackness  swept  ilown  upon 
them,  sudden  and  deep,  torn  by  ra.^^ed  flashes  of 
lightning  and  vibrant  witli  the  crasli  of  thunder, 
peal  upon  peal.    Like  a  torrent  the  rain  fell. 

Drenched  and  frightened  by  her  narrow  escape, 
the  quick  pursuit,  and  now  the  wild  crashing  of 
this  elemental  outburst,  Valerie  crept  back  through 
the  wet  darkness  and  reached  out  her  hand  until 


I  111:  CRYSTAL  ROOD  167 


it  rested  upon  the  nioccasined  foot  of  Rushing 
Water.  I  le  bent  down  so  that  he  might  sec  her 
face  in  the  darkness. 

"You  are  fri^hteiieil  ?"  he  asked. 

"Not  now,"  she  said. 

"There  is  no  cause  for  fear  now,"  he  assured 
her.  "The  storm  will  drive  the  Illinois  back.  The 

Humming  Bird  is  safe.' 

"  i  hanks  to  the  hrave  Indian,"  she  answcii-d. 
"You  are  Humming  Bird's  warrior." 


CHAPTER  XV 


THE  SILVER  FOX 

The  spring  afternoon  was  on  the  wane.  Rush- 
ing Water,  stretchcJ  on  the  carpet  of  pine  needles, 
•Icpt.  his  breast  rising  and  falling  regularly  and 
smoothly.  Bcsiilc  him  Valerie  sat  watching  over 
his  rest.  They  had  sought  a  covert  that  day  some 
yards  in  from  the  river  bank.  Their  rude  camp 
was  on  the  edge  of  a  little  natural  clearing  of  some 
few  acres,  beyond  which  the  trees  towered,  their 
green  plumes  tossing  in  the  breeze. 

Valerie,  who  had  slumbered  in  the  canoe  most 
of  the  night  while  her  warrior  plied  his  steady 
stroke,  was  on  guard,  now  that  he  took  his  rest. 
Through  the  trees  she  looked  out  on  the  unshaded 
stretch  of  grass,  watching  the  birds  that  rose  in 
swarms  from  its  vivid  green  blades.  Suddenly 
she  started.  A  swift  silent  thing  had  hurtled 
through  the  trees  between  her  and  the  clearing. 
It  came  and  went  in  an  instant — just  a  flash  of 
silver  gray.     I  he  girl  was  recovering  her  com- 

i68 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  169 


posure  when  she  hcan.1  a  faint  distant  chorus  of 
low  snarling  howls.  It  grew  louder  until  her 
hand  reached  out  to  awaken  Rushing  Water,  so 
close  at  hand  it  seemed.  Then  there  streaked 
across  her  astonished  xision  a  succession  of 
gaunt  gray  forms.  Tlie  broail,  low-hung  itiuz- 
zles,  the  lolling,  red  tongues,  and  gleaming  tangs 
affrighted  her.  Before  her  hand  touched  the 
arm  of  the  sleeping  warrior  they  were  gone, 
and  she  breathed  freely  again.  P'or  a  while  the 
forest  was  silent.  But  soon  the  leaves  stirred 
a^'ain  and  the  streak  of  sil\  cr  gray  flashed  before 
her  eyes.  Again  the  snarling  yelp  of  the  wolf 
pack  frightened  her.  She  noticed  that  this  time 
the  int  .rval  between  the  hunted  and  the  hunters 
was  shorter.  The  line  of  flight  was  a  few  feet 
farther  away  from  her  and  nearer  to  the  clearing. 

Valerie  wondered  at  the  recurrence  of  the  in- 
cident under  her  eyes.  She  hail  not  yet  i'k  ntified 
the  little  hunted  thing,  but  she  knew  that  the  great 
lean  pursuers  were  the  fierce,  hungry  gray  wolves 
of  the  North  American  wild.  Although  they  tra- 
versed the  woods  with  incredible  speed,  the  size 
of  the  pack  gave  her  an  opportunity  to  see  them. 
Their  bodies,  full  five  feet  in  length,  stretched  in 
their  headlong  Hight  seemeil  even  longer,  so  thin 
thev  were,  and  their  tails,  giving  them  an  adtii- 
tional  measure  of  two  feet,  lay  extended  in  a 


I70        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


straight  line.  Tl  e  body  was  a  rough  grizzled 
gray,  the  under  body  a  dull  yellow. 

When  it  appeared  before  her  the  third  time, 
the  hunted  animal  was  at  the  very  edge  of  the 
clearing  and  as  it  circled  back  on  the  opposite 
side,  Valerie  saw  it  break  into  the  open.  She  now 
saw  that  it  was  a  beautiful  little  animal,  with  long 
pointed  muzzle  and  a  handsome  coat  of  soft  fur, 
black  at  the  neck  and  shoulders  and  rinj^ed  vvith 
silver  at  the  back  and  haunches.  The  bushy  tail 
was  tipped  with  white.  The  pursuing  wolves  were 
close  behind  now,  their  red  jaws  agape.  Valerie 
shuddered. 

"Humming  Bird  is  frightened,"  said  a  deep 
voice  beside  her.  The  girl  started.  Her  interest 
in  the  pursuit  had  become  so  intense  that  she  had 
almost  forgotten  her  companion.  As  she  looked 
round  at  the  sound  of  his  voice,  she  saw  that  he 
was  sitting  up,  his  eyes  upon  her. 

"See!"  she  said,  nodding  toward  the  clearir^. 

7'he  chase  was  getting  quicker,  closer,  out  thcfL' 
in  the  open.  The  fox  still  kept  a  short  lead,  but 
behind  his  flying  tail  the  rav  enous  pack  closed  in. 
The  wolves  were  led  by  a  gigantic  beast  whose 
loose,  wide  jaws  were  dripping  frodi.  The  pant- 
ing of  the  beasts  was  like  a  sob  on  the  quiet  air. 

True  to  the  strange  habit  of  his  species,  the 
fugitive  fox  ran  in  circles,  narrowing  their  diamc- 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  171 


ter  with  each  frantic  turn.  The  wolves  leaped 
nearer  and  nearer  the  heautiful  silver  flanks. 
Watching  the  forest  tragedy  with  wide,  fascinated 
eyes,  Valerie's  breath  came  in  quick  gasps.  There 
was  but  a  few  feet  of  daylight  now  between  the 
white-tipped  brush  and  the  red  muzzle  of  the 
leader  of  the  pack. 

"Oh,  save  him!  Save  him!"  the  girl  cried  as 
she  turned  her  eyes  away  in  horror. 

"Let  the  Humming  Bird  not  fear,"  the  warrior 
answered.    "Watch  I" 

He  had  plucked  his  bow  from  the  ground  and 
was  fitting  a  feathered  shaft  to  the  string.  She 
saw  the  sinews  of  his  left  wrist  stiffen  as  his  fingers 
closed  on  the  bow.    The  long  rippling  muscles 
slipped  back  under  the  satin  skin  of  his  right  fore- 
arm, the  supple  biceps  rounded  out,  and  the  shoul- 
der muscles  coiled  like  bands  of  steel  as  he  drew 
the  string  back  so  that  the  shaft  crossed  his  deep 
chest.    An  instant  he  stood  poised,  the  left  ni(,c- 
casin  advanced,  the  left  knee  sligluly  flexed,  the 
straight  line  of  the  extended  right  leg  running  true 
to  the  incline  of  the  magnificent  body.    His  eye 
sighted  the  resting  arrow.   Valerie  gasped  at  the 
picture,  so  graceful,  so  sure,  so  splendidly  virile. 
Then  the  fingers  parted  and  the  loosened  bow 
string  sang.    Swiftly  she  turned  to  follow  with 
her  glance  the  arrow's  flight.   She  saw  the  silver 


172         THF  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


fox  stagt^cring  on  its  last  turn,  and.  close  behind, 
the  feuge  gray  body  of  the  leading  wolf  rising  for 
the  final  death  spring.  Into  the  exposed  gray 
throat  the  pointed  shaft  drove  and  the  beast,  with 
a  spurt  of  rod  blood  gushing  from  the  wound, 
crumpled  and  fell,  and  rolled  over  and  over  on 
the  ground.  Instantly  the  scent  of  fresh  blood  was 
in  the  keen  nostrils  i)f  the  pack,  and  while  the 
wounded  pant  was  tearing  with  his  paws  at  the 
feathered  dart,  his  companions  leaped  on  him, 
rending  his  still  living  body  with  their  cruel  fangs. 

The  silver  fox,  panting  and  staggering,  gained 
the  edge  of  the  wood  where  Rushing  Water  stood 
with  a  fresh  arrow  on  the  strinfr  and  his  toma- 
hawk in  his  belt.  With  a  little,  exhausted  whine 
it  sank  across  the  moccasins  of  Rushing  Water. 

Valerie  covered  her  eyes  with  her  hands,  but 
the  warrior  stood  fingering  the  butt  of  his  shaft 
and  watching  the  fighting-  wolves.  When  their 
raging  showed  signs  of  nbatement.  he  singled  out 
another  gray  form  and  again  his  bow  string  sang. 
A  second  victim  fed  the  survivors. 

The  sun  had  gone  down  behind  the  trees. 

"Come!"  said  Valerie,  with  a  little  shudder. 

They  walked  to  the  river  bank  Rushing  Water 
drew  the  canoe  from  its  hiding  place  in  the  weeds 
and  showetl  its  nose  on  the  bank.  \'a!erie  stepped 
into  it.    At  her  very  heels  the  silver  fox,  which 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


had  followed  them  to  the  beach,  jumped  over  tlu 
side  and  sank,  tremblinjr,  on  the  Hoor  of  the  little 
bark.  Rushing  Water's  hand  shot  out  to  grasp  it 
by  the  scruff,  but  the  girl  stopped  him. 

"No!  Nol"  she  cried.  "Do  not— they  will 
get  it." 

Kushiiig  Water  smiled  gently. 

"Like  the  I  lumming  Bird,"  he  said,  pointing  to 
the  little  creature. 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  "1  have  been  hunted,  too." 

Again  the  young  man  smiled. 

"The  Humming  Bird  need  not  fear,"  he  said. 
"Mer  warrior  shall  keep  her  from  the  wolves. 
Let  the  sih  er  fox  stay." 

He  stepped  into  the  bark  and  thrust  it  out  on 
the  darkening  river.  All  night  long  as  he  beat 
the  water  with  the  cedar  blade,  the  fox  lay  in 
the  boat.  But  when  next  morning  he  made  the 
beach,  the  little  animal  leaped  over  the  side  and 
darted  into  the  woods. 

"Oh!"  cried  \'alerie  in  surprise,  "he  is  gone!" 

Rushing  Water  nodded. 

"Yes,"  he  answered.  "The  silver  fox  feared 
the  wolves  no  longer,  so  he  fled  away.  It  is  the 
way  of  the  fox.  Yet,"  he  added  thoughtfully, 
"there  may  be  other  woKes.  He  were  safer  did 
he  stay  with  the  warrior  who  could  protect  him." 


CHAPTER  XVI 


NEW  ORLEANS 

Bad  news  traveled  fast  in  Colonial  America,  as 
elsewhere,  and  within  a  few  weeks  of  Pontiac's 
appearance  in  force  before  the  rude  walls  of 
Detroit,  the  vast  reaches  of  lonely  forest  were 
electrified  with  fast  flying  reports  of  war  and 
massacre.  The  "dwellers  in  the  long  house"  of 
the  Iroquois,  long  time  friends  of  the  English  and 
irreconcilable  foes  of  the  Algonquin  blood,  fur- 
nished forest  runners  to  carry  afar  the  intelli- 
gence of  disaster  and  the  call  for  aid.  Traveling 
light  and  lotvily,  with  bare  bodies  and  swift,  un- 
wearying liinhs,  these  couriers  of  the  wilderness 
sped  through  the  deep  gloom  of  the  primeval 
arborage  to  the  English  strongholds  of  the  east 
and  south.  In  tlic  nearer  settlements  there  was 
hasty  arming  and  the  sending  forth  of  relief  expe- 
ditions. Colonial  militia  and  regular  troops  of  the 
Rri^ish  forces  in  America,  with  their  dark  flank- 
ing rlmids  of  native  auxiliaries,  took  the  forest 
trails  :  >r  the  beleaguered  outposts  in  the  north- 

174 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  175 


west.  Over  rlicir  he:uls  antl  beyond  them  to  the 
shores  of  the  Atlantic  and  the  (iulf,  the  wave 
of  intelligence  spread,  runners  carrying  it  from 
settlement  to  settlement,  until  not  only  the  Eng- 
lish colonists  along  tiie  Atlantic,  but  the  Spaniards 
in  Florida  and  the  French  in  Louisiana  heard  of 
the  fire  that  was  raging  in  the  forests  of  the 
north. 

Many  distant  homes  were  filled  with  anxiety 
and  grief,  because  in  nearly  all  these  settlements 
were  the  kin  and  loved  ones  of  men  whose  adven- 
turous spirits  and  hunger  for  gain  led  them  into 

the  wild  woods. 

One  such  home  overlooked  the  crescent  bend  of 
the  Mississippi  at  New  Orleans.  It  was  a  line, 
roomy  structure  set  upon  a  patch  of  exquisitely 
kept  greensward,  that  sloped  back  from  the  levee 
some  few  squares  above  the  "Place  d'  Armes." 
Great  spreading  shade  trees  flanked  it,  and  rich 
flower  gardens  pave  evidence  of  the  taste  of  those 
who  dwelt  therein.  1  his  was  the  honic  of  R-jne 
de  Boncour,  American  resident  member  of  the 
opulent  fur-trading  house  of  Poiret  de  Boncour  y 
Cie  of  Bordeaux  and  New  Orleans,  This  was  tlw 
residence  he  had  builded  in  the  new  worul  twenty 
years  before,  when  he  brought  his  bride  out  from 
France  to  share  his  life  in  the  settlement  His 
only  daughter,  Valerie,  had  been  born  under  its 


176        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


roof,  as  had  her  two  brothers,  Raoul,  now  a 
slender,  muscular  youth  of  nineteen,  and  Gaspare, 
over  whose  careless,  boyish  head  his  fifteenth  sum- 
mer was  passing.  There  was  a  great  room  in  the 
upper  story  of  the  house  reserved  for  Rene  dc 
Boncour's  brother,  and  occupied  by  that  famous 
hunter  and  woodsman  during  his  not  very  fre- 
(lucnt  and  not  very  I.>ng  visits  to  the  little  French 
City. 

It  was  from  this  safe  and  pleasant  abode  that 
Valerie  had  set  out  in  the  preceding  autumn  to 
accompany  her  uncle  on  one  of  his  expeditions 
up  to  the  great  river.  Rene  had  hesitated  when 
she  begged  permission  to  make  this  journey,  but 
the  girl,  who  adored  her  heroic  uncle,  and  held 
in  her  small  body  much  of  tlic  spirit  of  adven- 
ture that  animated  his  iron  frame,  induced  her 
doting  mother  to  join  in  her  appeal,  and  at  last 
the  facer's  obduracy  melted  and  he  gave  reluctant 
consent. 

The  news  of  the  outbreak  in  the  lake  country, 
therefore,  carried  peculiar  aiiu:ui-h  into  this  home. 
I  hc  father  heard  it  nith  a  whiccninp;  f:uc  He 
slowly  walked  from  the  little  coffee  house  near 
the  barracks,  where  the  dread  tidings  had  re»(^ed 
him,  to  his  home.  As  the  scene  on  his  own  front 
portico  greeted  his  eyes,  he  pauseil  and  stood  a 
moment  with  his  h»ads  clenched  uotil  the  ii.ak 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


cut  the  palms.  Gaspare  was  playing  in  one  shaded 
corner  with  two  little  negro  slave  boys.  Nearer 
the  door  a  lady  sat  bending  over  a  spinning  wht  el. 
Although  her  cheeks  were  still  rounded  and  her 
eyes  bright  with  the  light  of  an  inextinguish- 
able youth,  a  few  of  the  ringlets  that  escaped  from 
her  dainty  muslin  cap  showed  traces  of  gray. 
Rene  dc  Boncour  set  his  teeth  and  started  for- 
ward. The  sound  of  his  footfall  upon  the  steps 
of  the  porch  attracted  the  woman's  attention  and 
she  looked  up  with  a  glad,  bright  smile.  At  the 
sigirt  of  his  face,  set  and  gray,  the  smile  faded 
from  h<  r  countenance  and  her  lips  began  to  quiver. 

"kcnc,  "  she  asked,  her  voice  tremulous,  "what 
— what  is  the  matter?    Valerie  " 

Her  husband  put  one  arm  around  her  neck  and 
drew  her  head  to  his  breast. 

"My  poor  little  girl,"  he  said,  "it  may  be  that 
God  has  sent  to  you  and  to  me  a  very  great  tribu- 
lation. There  is  fri^ful  news  from  the  lake 
country  whither  ^';l1erie  went." 

With  n  sudden  gesture  the  woman  threw  up 
her  .\nt\o  and  duiig  to  liis  neck. 

"Oh,  no  I"  she  cried.  "Oh,  it  cannot  be !  My 
little  girl,  my  baby  girl  I" 

A  fit  of  trembling  sci/ed  her. 

"l  .i  "  V' said,  holding  her  close  to  him.  "It 
would  be  cruel  to  tell  you  there  is  ho^,  for  I 


178        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


fear  there  is  no  hope.  The  news  is  that  Venango 
was  taken  and  that  all  were  slain.  Listen,  little 
mother,  all  who  were  there  were  slain.  There 
is  no  captivity,  no  torture;  no  foul  thing  can 
happen  to  your  little  girl." 

He  whispered  this  bitter  consolation  in  tones 
of  the  deepest  tenderness  and  he  was  glad  when 
her  arms  relaxed,  and  but  for  the  hold  of  his  own 
she  would  have  fallen  In  the  faintness  that  had 
blotted  out  a  consciousness  too  full  of  agony  for 
her  to  bear.  Two  slaves  were  called  and  they 
carried  the  stricken  mother  to  her  room. 

So  the  blow  fell  at  New  Orleans.  It  trnns- 
formed  Rene  dc  Boncour  from  the  gayest-hearted 
among  the  settlers  to  the  saddest  and  most  silent. 
Although  hopeless  of  the  result,  the  rich  trader 
organized  a  considerable  party  of  woodsmen  to 
search  the  northern  forests,  and  this  expedition 
led  by  his  son  Raoul  left  New  Orleans  for  the 
north  on  the  day  following  the  arrival  of  the 
news  of  the  tragedy.  Then  the  bereaved  father 
took  up  again  the  routine  of  his  life. 

He  was  a  stout,  bald  man.  His  features  lacked 
the  lean  gauntness  of  those  of  his  brother,  as  his 
frame  lacked  the  iron  endurance  and  silken 
strength  of  that  renowned  wood-rover.  He  had 
been  noted  among  i;Is  friends  as  a  genial,  glad- 
hearted  man,  shrewd  and  fortunate  in  his  busi' 


THI    CRYSTAL  ROOD  179 


ness  ventures  and  happy  in  such  of  the  comforts 

of  civilization  as  the  little  city  afforded. 

Six  weeks  had  passed  since  the  receipt  at  New 
Orle:in  of  the  tidings  from  the  north,  and  the 
heat  of  August  lay  heavy  upon  the  southern  land. 
With  the  rising  sun  a  slight  hrccze  sprang  up  from 
the  Mexican  Gulf,  rippling  the  glowing  surface 
of  the  river.  Some  fifty  yards  of!  the  levee,  in 
front  of  de  Boncour*s  warehouses,  a  brig  lay  at 
anchor.  Her  high  how  breasted  the  current,  and 
as  she  swayed  under  the  impulse  of  the  morning 
breeze  her  tall  masts  and  wide-spreading  yard- 
arms  cast  wriggling  reflections  on  the  flowing 
waters. 

Early  as  it  was,  there  were  signs  of  life  and 
activity  on  board  the  great  ship,  and  also  the 
crest  of  the  levee.  A  dozen  negro  slaves  were 
lowering  bales  of  cotton  and  furs,  taken  from  the 
squat  warehouse,  into  flat-bottomeii  barges,  by 
means  of  which  they  were  transferred  to  the  ship's 
side.  There,  there  was  creaking  of  tackle,  atul  the 
faint  echo  of  .1  sailorman's  chantey  as  the  wind- 
lass turned  and  the  bales  were  lifted  over  the  side 
and  lowered  through  the  open  hatches.  De  Bon- 
cour  stood  superintending  the  work  of  loading  the 
vessel,  one  of  his  overseers  at  his  side.  He  was 
do^ed  in  white  linen,  his  broad-brimmed  straw 


MiatOCOPY  tKOlUTION  TBT  CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


i8o        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


hat  was  held  in  his  hand,  while  he  mopped  the 
perspiration  from  his  brow  and  head  with  a  large 
kerchief.  Suddenly  the  young  man  at  his  side 
started.  Looking  out  over  the  river  sweep  he  had 
seen  a  canoe  turning  the  bend. 

"Monsieur,"  he  cried,  "look,  look  I  In  the 
name  of  God,  look!" 

De  Boncour's  quick  eyes  were  raised.  The  canoe 
was  in  plain  sight.  It  held  two  figures, — one  at 
the  stern,  paddling  steadily,  was  that  of  an  Indian; 
the  other,  facing  them,  was  that  of  a  girl  whose 
countenance  was  alight  with  joy  and  whose  arms 
stretched  toward  them.  With  a  great  cry  the 
trader  recognized  his  lost  daughter. 

"Run,"  he  said  to  his  overseer,  "run,  Pierre, 
and  fetch  Madame  de  Boncour.  Tell  her  to  fly, 
that  Valerie  is  come  I  Oh,  great  God  be  thanked ! 
Valerie  has  come!" 

Swiftly  the  canoe  cleft  the  waters  until  it  reached 
the  levee,  whereon  father  and  mother  now  knelt 
with  radiant  faces  in  thankful  prayer,  while  be- 
hind them  little  Gaspare  voiced  his  boyish  delight 
in  wild  whoops  of  joy,  and  an  ever  growing  circle 
of  negro  slaves  gathered  to  look  on,  their  black 
faces  shining. 

Within  a  few  minutes  Valerie  was  in  her 
mother's  arms,  while  Rushing  Water  in  more  than 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  i8i 


a  little  amazement  was  enduring  the  frantic  em- 
brace of  a  stout,  bald-headed  man,  who  had 
kissed  him  on  both  cheeks  and  was  now  weeping 
upon  his  breast. 


CHAPTER  XVII 


HOME 

After  their  escape  from  the  war  party  of  the 
Illinois  on  the  Ohio,  Rushing  Water  and  Valerie 
managed  to  evade  the  notice  of  hosdles.  Their 

journey  proceeded  peacefully  as  they  gradually 
floated  out  of  the  danger  zone.  The  Ohio's  cur- 
rent swung  them  out  into  the  majestic  flood  of 
the  father  of  waters,  whose  windings  they  fol- 
lowed through  the  fertile  southern  land.  Bred  on 
the  lakes,  Rushing  Water  was  now  traveling,  for 
the  first  time,  through  a  land  of  less  rigorous 
clitnate,  and  he  eagerly  noted  the  increasing 
warmth  of  the  sun,  the  widening  varieties  of  four- 
footed  and  feathered  life,  the  richening  vegeta- 
tion that  showed  in  the  color  and  diversity  of 
form  of  tree  and  flower. 

Blossoms  strange  to  his  sight  made  the  river 
banks  gorgeous  under  the  flecked  sunshine  sifting 
down  through  the  brilliant  and  abundant  foliage. 
Broad  waving  savannahs  of  blue  grass  broke  at 
times  the  continuity  of  the  emerald  forest,  and 

182 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  183 


Rushing  Water  watched  in  wonder  the  ripple  of 
the  breeze  over  the  surface  of  the  wide  swards 
under  the  golden  sunshine,  and  the  clouds  of  birds 
that  rose  from  the  covert  and  streaked  across 
the  azure  sky.  Tender,  mysterious  tints  hung  like 
fire  shot  veils  on  the  remote  horizon.  Graceful 
palms,  standing  alone  against  the  sky  on  the  river 
bank,  delighted  the  eye  of  the  stranger.  Strange 
beasts,  too,  showed  themselves  in  the  new  world. 
In  place  of  the  moose  or  elk  of  his  native  wilds, 
Rushing  Water  now  saw  the  ferocious  bearded 
heads  and  huge  shoulders  of  bison  drinking  at  the 
river  edge.  The  lynx  of  the  north— "the  tree- 
cats,"  the  Indians  called  them— gave  place  to  the 
American  panther. 

Rushing  Water  shot  a  bison  and  found  its 
meat  good.  Now  that  he  felt  free  to  use  his 
rifle,  there  was  no  fear  of  starvation  where  forest 
and  stream  were  teeming  with  game.  The  quick 
and  unwearied  intelligence  of  the  young  man  made 
him  an  apt  pupil,  and  Valerie  was  surprised  at  the 
rapidity  with  which  he  learned  the  simple  French 
she  taught  him.  His  knowledge  of  her  language 
was  soon  such  as  to  make  conversation  between 
them  less  and  less  difficult.  She  now  called  him 
Elan  d'  Eau  whenever  she  spoke  to  him,  and 
following  her  example  he  used  the  name  when 
speaking  of  himself.    Although  he  no  longer 


i84        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


dreaded  an  attack  by  hostile  Indians,  the  danger 
in  the  woods  from  wild  beasts  and  serpents  was 
such  that  he  continued  to  make  his  journeys  by 
night,  camping  during  the  daylight  hours  upon 
the  river  bank. 

For  this  reason  he  passed,  without  notice,  sev- 
eral white  settlements.  The  first  to  attract  his 
attention,  they  came  upon  in  the  early  dawn  as 
they  were  about  to  end  one  of  their  nocturnal 
journeys.  It  was  a  little  cluster  of  cabins  sur- 
mounting one  of  the  bluffs  that  occasionally  rose 
above  the  otherwise  level  line  of  the  river  bank. 
Rushii.g  Water  started,  as  the  habitations  of  white 
people  broke  upon  his  vision. 

"See,"  he  said  pointing.  "See,  Humming  Bird, 
there  are  the  houses  of  your  people.  Elan  d'  Eau 
shall  leave  you  there  among  your  own  friends." 

Valerie  looked  up  at  him  with  a  question  in 
her  eyes. 

"And  where  shall  Elan  d'  Eau  go?"  she  asked. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  swept  his  hand 
out  to  the  westward. 

"The  woods  are  wide,"  he  said. 

The  little  head  was  shaken  quite  vigorously  and 
decidedly. 

"No,  No!"  she  answered.  "Elan  d'  Eau  shall 
not  leave  me  here  and  go  alone  into  fhe  wilds.  He 
shall  take  me  to  the  white  chief,  my  father,  who 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  185 


shall  thank  him  for  what  he  has  done  for 
me. 

"Does  the  Humming  Bird  so  wish  it?"  he  asked, 
looking  at  her  with  a  quick,  keen  glance. 

"She  does,"  answered  Valerie  decidedly. 

The  young  man  had  let  his  paddle  trail  idly 
in  the  water  from  the  time  the  village  had  ap- 
peared. He  now  caught  it  in  his  hands  and  plied 
it  with  a  long  powerful  stroke,  under  whose  pro- 
pulsion the  canoe  shot  forward. 

Valerie  sat  watching  him  awhile.  At  last  she 
said: 

"When  Elan  d'Eau  saved  the  Humming  Bird 
from  the  warriors  of  his  own  people,  did  he  shut 
the  door  of  his  father's  long  house  against  him- 
self?" 

The  young  man  nodded  gravely. 
"Forever,"  he  said. 

Again  for  a  few  minutes  Valerie  was  thoughtful. 

"Then  why,"  she  asked,  "did  the  warrior  spare 
the  white  girl?" 

With  s  slow,  grave  smile  Rushing  Water 
shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"It  is  hard  to  tell  what  you  do  not  know,"  he 
answered.  "The  Indian  in  war  spares  none,  not 
the  warrior,  not  the  squaw,  not  the  babe.  It  is 
the  way  with  my  people.  But  when  Elan  d'  Eau 
saw  the  litde  ones  fall  under  the  tomahawk,  and 


1 86        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


the  white  women  scalped  after  the  men  had  fallen, 
he  knew  that  the  power  to  do  those  things  had 
been  taken  out  of  his  heart  by  the  Great  Spirit. 
When  Elan  d'  Eau  was  a  boy,  it  pained  him  to 
see  his  mother  toiling  and  his  own  people  were 
angry  at  him  because  he  would  do  a  squaw's  work. 
There  is  something  here" — he  touched  his  breast 
— "which  is  different." 

They  did  not  speak  of  the  matter  again,  nor 
did  Rushing  Water  again  propose  to  leave  the  girl 
at  any  of  the  white  settlements,  the  appearance 
of  which  upon  the  river  bank  was  growing  more 
frequent  as  they  fared  southward.  When  they 
reached  the  sharp  turn  of  the  river,  as  it  bends 
to  the  north  just  above  the  city  of  her  birth, 
Valerie  recognized  the  familiar  country,  but  she 
said  nothing  to  her  companion.  As  they  entered 
the  crescent  and  the  city  burst  suddenly  upon  their 
view,  she  quietly  enjoyed  the  look  of  amazement 
that  spread  over  the  face  of  the  young  man.  His 
eyes  swept  along  the  crest  of  the  levee,  dwelt  on 
the  greensward  of  the  "Place  d'  Armes,"  rose  to 
the  spire  of  the  old  French  church  of  St.  Louis 
in  the  background,  took  in  the  neat  little  dwellings 
on  the  well-ordered  streets,  the  canal  on  its  west- 
erly border,  and  the  battlemented  walls  that  pro- 
tected it  from  attack  by  land.    Then  with  grow- 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  187 


ing  astonishment  depicted  on  his  features,  his  gaze 
rested  on  the  vessel  aswtng  on  the  tide. 

"Sec,"  he  said,  "the  great  house  on  the  waters," 
as  he  pointed  to  the  bark  de  Boncour's  slaves  were 

loading. 

"That,"  said  Valerie,  "is  a  ship.    It  has  great 
wings  of  white  cloth  which  the  wind  fills,  blowing 
r  ~  ross  the  big  water  to  the  land  of  the  white 
•9" 

*  \  huge  canoe,"  said  Rushing  Water,  nodding 
with  apprehension.  "It  would  hold  a  hundred 
warriors." 

"Seel"  said  the  girl  excitedly,  "there  is  my 
father  on  the  shore.  Ah!  he  sees  us,  he  is  send- 
ing for  mother!  See,  she  comes  running  down 
to  the  bank!    Take  me  to  them  quickly.  Elan 

d'  Eau!" 

In  obedience  to  her  command,  Rushing  Water 
steered  the  bow  of  his  canoe  in  toward  the  levee, 
and  soon  witnessed  that  joyful  greeting  between 
the  fond  parents  and  the  child  they  believed  to 
have  been  lost. 

The  first  transports  of  joy  over,  de  Boncour 
hurried  with  the  little  party  into  his  home.  There 
the  father  and  mother  and  little  Gaspare  sat  listen- 
ing, with  breathless  interest,  to  Valerie's  tal  -  of 
her  danger  and  her  escape.  Rushing  Water  stood 
silently  beside  her  chair  as  she  spoke.  When  the 


1 88        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


story  was  ended  at  last,  the  niolhi .  looked  up  at 
him  with  grateful  eyes,  and  the  father  wrung  him 
warmly  by  the  hand. 

"And  so,  little  girl,  you  have  come  back  to 
us,"  he  said,  turning  to  Valerie.  "Jules  is  dead. 
God  rest  him,  for  he  was  a  brave  man." 

The  shadow  which  had  come  into  his  eyes  at 
the  mention  of  his  brother's  name,  was  soon  dis- 
sipated, however,  so  deep  was  his  joy  in  the  re- 
covery of  his  daughter. 

"Come,"  he  said,  "you  must  be  famished. 
Mother,  have  the  breakfast  brought.  We  shall 
feast,  indeed,  this  morning.  Our  Indian  hero,  he 
shall  sit  at  the  head  of  the  table." 

He  turned  with  a  smile,  looking  for  Rushing 
Water,  but  the  yr  jng  man  was  no  longer  in  the 
room.  He  had  wken  advantage  of  the  diversion 
of  attention  from  himself  to  noiselessly  glide  from 
the  apartment. 

Rushing  to  the  porch,  de  Boncour  saw  him 
stepping  over  the  levee.  Although  the  trader 
called  to  him,  he  did  not  come  back.  His  canoe 
soon  vanished  round  the  bend  in  the  river. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 


THE  WOOD  THRUSH  CALL 

Valeric  dc  Boncour's  white  pillow  held  a  rest- 
less little  head.    The  silky,  auburn  tresses  were 
in  a  sad  rumple  and  the  big  brown  eyes  were  soft 
with  the  mist  of  unshed  tears,  when  the  window 
curtain  began  to  whiten  with  the  coming  of  the 
day.    Under  her  snowy  night  drapery  her  heart 
was  troubled  with  a  strange  unease.    Her  first 
day  in  the  city  had  been  filled  with  the  delight 
of  the  homc-comi-g,  the  beaming  happiness  of 
her  mother's  face,  the  boisterous  glee  of  Gas- 
pare, the  gay  volubility  of  her  father,  the  salute 
of  gathering  friends;  young  men's  cordial  and 
gayly  complimentary  welcome  and  the  tearfully 
happy  embraces  of  girl  friends.    A  weary^  little 
head  had  touched  a  soft  pillow  to  sink  into  imme- 
diate slumber.   The  next  morning  she  had  spent 
among  the  bright  flowers  of  her  beloved  garden, 
the  afternoon  with  Adorce  and  Babette  Vatreuil 
at  the  Vatreuil  place,  some  squares  away.  But 
the  night  had  come  and  with  it  an  inexplicable 
sense  of  loneliness.    She  found  her  mind  much 

189 


THK  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


occupied  with  the  face  and  figure  of  Flan  d'  F.au. 
Many  times  she  shook  her  little  head  in  a  physi- 
cal effort  to  rid  her  mind  of  his  disquieting 
memories,  hut  he  went  not  for  shakings  of  a  wil- 
ful little  head.  I'ven  when  she  escaped  him  in 
waking  consciousness,  he  glided  unbidden  into  her 
dreams.  So  the  restless  night  hours,  patterned 
in  disturbing  dreams  and  memories,  marched  their 
slow  procession  through  the  little  sleeping  cham- 
ber, until  the  dark  trailing  robe  of  the  last  of 
them  was  fringed  with  a  wan  and  misty  blue  by 
the  fast  following  dawn. 

In  the  gloom  of  Valerie's  room  the  square  of 
her  eastern  window  slowly  defined  itself.  Out- 
side the  song  birds  began  their  matins.  Lazily, 
little  Valerie  turned  on  her  side  to  watch  the 
growing  light  and  listen  to  the  feathered  chor- 
isters' pure  notes  of  joy.  Suddenly,  she  sat  up 
in  bed,  listening  with  brightened  eyes  and  quick- 
ened pulses.  Through  the  bubbling  chorus  there 
rippled  like  the  golden  thread  on  a  banner  of 
silk  the  reedy  sweetness  of  the  wood  thrush 
call.  It  was  a  note  strange  in  Louisiana  brakes, 
although  familiar  in  the  northern  arborage. 
Smoothing  her  rumpled  hair,  Valerie  slipped  out 
of  bed  and  hastened  to  the  window.  Carefully 
she  drew  aside  the  white  draperies  until  the  cast- 
light  shon-  on  her  features.    The  far  horizon 


THE  CRi  T;^:.  ROOD  191 


jr1..\vccl  opalcsccntly,  pale  witli  flashing  glints.  A 
misty  star  hung  in  the  sky,  watching  its  danci.ig 
reflection  in  the  nearer  reaches  of  the  ri\  ci .  I  he 
far  edge  of  the  wide  water  blowed  with  the  rcil 
of  dying  embers  under  ^'ray  ashes.  Where  the 
trees  clustereil,  north  of  tht  stream,  the  shadows 
were  still  deep. 

Against  the  pale,  faint  flushing  •  xy  a  dark 
arc  was  outlined.  Valerie  recognized  instai  ; 
the  long  clean  lines  of  limb  and  torso,  ^hc  proud 
lift  of  the  head,  although  tb.  face  v  «-  in  the 
shadow.  As  -he  looked  dow;  '  le  wo<kI  thrush 
call  thrilled  forth  a^ain.  With  a  ^lad  little  smile, 
she  answered  the  signal.  Waving  his  hand  Elan 
d'  Eau  stepped  toward  the  trees.  At  the  edge 
of  the  shadow  he  paused,  and  again  his  right  hand 
was  flung  up  and  out  in  salutation,  grave  and 
graceful.  Then  he  vanished  in  the  gloom  of  the 
trees. 

Valerie  returned  to  her  couch,  the  u  case  gone 
from  her  heart.  She  joined  father,  mother  and 
brother  at  the  breakfast  table  with  the  roses 
abloom  in  her  cheeks  and  her  eyes  bright.  Ma- 
dame de  Boncour  beamed  on  her,  Ciaspare  gave 
her  a  rough,  but  enthusiastic  kiss,  and  Rene 
looked  proudly  and  happily  upon  his  daughter. 

"Strange,"  said  the  father  as  he  sipped  his 
coffee.    "Strange  that  Indian  youth  t  >  whom  we 


192         THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 

owe  so  much  has  completely  disappeared.  1 
should  like  to  thank  him."    The  trader  sighed. 

"Ah  yes,  Rene,  you  must  find  and  reward  him," 
agreed  Madame  de  Boncour.  "Nothing  we  have 
would  be  too  much  to  bestow  on  that  noble  sav- 
age." 

Valerie's  lips  opened,  but  something  con- 
strained her  to  silence. 

"Ohel  he  seems  to  vanish  like  a  ghost,"  com- 
plained Rene.  "First  Pierre  and  his  gang  made 
search.  Nothing.  Not  so  much  as  a  footstep. 
Then  I  paid  the  Chickasaw  chief  a  good  gold 
louis  to  send  his  trackers  out.  PoufI  They  might 
as  well  be  blind  dogs  with  a  cold  in  the  head. 
Not  a  trace.  Not  a  broken  twig.  My  dear,  it 
is  a  mystery." 

But  the  next  morning  the  wood  thrush's  note 
thrilled  on  the  river  edge  and  the  dark  figure 
stood  outlined  against  the  dawn.  Again  Valerie 
smiled,  her  little  face  framed  in  the  window  drap- 
eries, again  Elan  saluted  with  wide-Hung  hand, 
and  disappeared  among  the  trees.  And  morn- 
ing after  morning  thereafter  Valerie  opened  her 
eyes  and  listened  for  the  signal  among  the  bird 
notes. 

But  Rene  de  Boncour  was  much  perplexed. 
The  burden  of  unredeemed  obligation,  of  inade- 
quately expressed  gratitude,  lay  heavy  upon  him, 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  193 


and  all  his  efforts  to  find  the  Indian  were  un- 
availing. 

Some  weeks  after  Valerie's  return,  Monsieur 
and  Madame  Vatreuil  and  their  girls  took  dinner 
with  the  de  Boncou.s.  Madame  Vatreuil,  short, 
snappy  and  explosive,  was  quite  a  favorite  in 
Rene's  home,  and  the  two  girls  were  devoted 
friends  of  Valerie. 

"Oh  my  dears!"  the  little  lady  exclaimed  ad- 
dressing the  dinner  table,  "but  so  strange  a  thing 
did  happen  this  day!  So  strange,  Monsieur  de 
Boncour!  So  strange,  Madame  de  Boncourl  So 
strange,  -ny  dear  children!" 

"Ah,  but  what  was  it,  Madame  Vatreuil?" 
asked  Madame  de  Boncour. 

"I  went  to  church,"  began  the  little  lady. 

"Ho-ho !"  laughed  Monsieur  Vatreuil,  slapping 
his  fat  thigh.  "So  strangely  strange  is  that,  an- 
gels of  fire !  Why  Rene,  my  comrade,  she  goes  to 
church  for  Mass,  for  Vespers,  day  in,  day  out  I 
Ohel  hut  a  strange,  strange  thing!" 

Madame  de  Vatreuil  flashed  a  glance  of  scorn 
at  him. 

"Oh,  he  so  loves  to  talk,  he  cannot  let  me 
begin,"  she  said.  "It  was  not  that  I  went  to 
church  that  was  so  strange — Ah  no!  I  know  my 
duty  as  a  Christian,  which  some  do  not,  lying 
abed  Sunday  morning,  fat  and  lazy,  is  it  not  so? 


194        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 

But  listen.  It  was  before  Vespers  and  I  had 
gone  to  say  a  little  prayer  that  my  husband  might 
not  be  such  a  fool  — ohe!  M.  Vatreuil,  a  good 
wife  am  I— and  the  church  was  deep  in  gloom^ 
From  where  I  knelt  I  saw  the  ruby  gleam  of 
the  altar  light  and  the  ghostly  outlines  of  the 
altar.  The  monstrance  shone  softly  above  the 
tabernacle  and  one  of  the  good  fathers  knelt  be- 
fore it.  You  could  not  see  his  form,  for  the  dark 
and  the  black  of  the  cassock,  you  know,  but  the 
little  light  shone  on  the  tonsured  skull  and  the 
white  hair  to  his  shoulders,  hke  a  halo  of  snow 


it  was." 


"Why,  how  she  talks  1"  murmured  Monsieur 
Vatreuil,  looking  to  his  friend  de  Boncour  for 

sympathy. 

"But  then  came  the  fright,"  Madame  Vatreuil 
went  on,  completely  ignoring  her  husband.  'T 
looked  to  my  left  and  there  stood  a  tall,  dark 
shape.  Mother  of  Saints,  how  I  trembled!  Then 
the  good  father  turned  round  and  the  light  ran 
along  the  silver  rim  of  the  crucifix,  thrust  in  his 
girdle.  He  is  old,  that  priest,  and  strange  in  the 
church  of  St.  Louis.  Oh,  his  brow  is  splendid, 
and  his  eyes  so  keen  with  wrinkles  all  round,  and 
great  snow  drifts  of  eyebrows  hanging  above. 
A  little  man,  too,  the  father." 

"Father  Poilet,  he  told  me,"  said  Rene,  "that 


THE  CRYSi  AL  kUvM)  195 


he  had  a  visitor,  Father  Reville,  who  had  just 
come  down  from  the  Indian  country." 

"So,"  nodded  Madame  Vatreuil,  "he  it  must 
have  been.  He  raised  his  hand  and  gave  bene- 
diction. Then  he  took  the  monstrance  and  put 
it  in  the  tabernacle,  and  went  away. 

"But  as  he  faced  us,  I  saw  the  shape  beside 
me  bend  forward.  Nay  more,  he  went  to  the 
chancel  rail.  And,  my  dears,  he  held  in  his  hand 
a  crucifix.  Under  the  altar  light  1  saw  it,  all  glit- 
tering like  a  diamond.  And  he  looked  at  it  and 
then  at  the  gold  ,  cross  on  the  altar  cloth.  Then 
he  turned  and  went  out.  But  I  saw  him  plainly 
before  the  altar,  and"— she  paused  for  dranriatic 
effect— "he  was  a  tall,  young  Indian  savage." 

"Eh!"  exclaimed  Rene  de  Boncour  excitedly. 
"An  Indian  you  sav,  Madame?  Then,  by  the 
crowof  acock,  itwashe!  Oh  yes.  This  ghost 
of  a  warrior  that  saved  our  Valerie,  and  van- 
ishes so  quickly  away." 

"Well!"  gasped  Madame  Vatreuil,  "Now  what 
do  you  think?  So!  With  a  crystal  rood  in  his 
hand.   Did  I  not  say  it  was  strange?   But  yes.' 


CHAPTER  XIX 


THE  WARRIOR 

In  close  conference,  Rene  de  Boncour  and  his 
wife  walked  up  and  down  the  garden  pith,  the 

trader's  hand  resting  affectionately  upon  the 
shoulder  of  the  little  woman  at  his  side.  The 
eyes  of  Madame  de  Boncour  were  troubled,  and 
there  was  a  little  pucker  of  worry  on  the  usually 
serene  brow  of  her  husband. 

"Ohe,  but  I  never  thought  of  that,  dolt  that  I 
am  1"  exclaimed  Rene — "Of  course  he  was  a  hand- 
some fellow,  and  chivalrous  as  a  knight  of  the 
old  times,  but  the  red  blood,  the  red — the  Indian 
blood — Mon  DIeu!  It  would  not  do — it  is  not 
for  our  little  girl!" 

"Perhaps,"  said  Madame  de  Boncour,  looking 
up  into  his  troubled  eyes  with  her  own  full  of 
perplexity,  yet  seeking  a  clearer,  brighter  vision, 
"it  may  be  I  am  too  apprehensive.  Valerie  said 
nothing  to  me  to  indicate  that  she  really  loved 
this  I  Indian,  or  that  her  regard  for  him  was  other 
than  a  warm,  even  passionate  gratitude  for  sav- 

196 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  197 


ing  her  life  at  the  beginning,  and  then  bringing 
her  safely  and  happily  through  that  wonderful 
journey  of  so  many  months  back  to  her  home 
and  us.  .  All  that  she  really  talked  about  were 
these  mysterious  morning  signals— wondering 
what  they  might  mean,  and  how  long  they  might 
continue." 

"Did  you  ask  her  why  she  had  not  spoken  of 
them  when  they  first  began?"  asked  the  fatiicr. 

"No,  because  she  explained  that  she  felt 
troubled  as  to  which  was  the  right  course  to  pur- 
sue— whether  to  withhold  the  knowledge  from  us, 
as  she  knew  how  anxious  we  have  been  to  find 
him,  or  to  tell  me  about  the  signals,  «  id  thus 
betray  the  secret  of  one  to  whom  she  owes  more 
than  her  life,  and  who  obviously  desires  to  keep 
beyond  the  reach  of  our  gratitude." 

"H'm!"  Rene  murmured.  His  forehead  was 
wrinkled  in  pained  perplexity. 

But  while  the  masculine  head  of  the  father  was 
laboriously  reasoning  over  the  solution,  the 
mother's  heart  raced  to  its  intuitive  answer  with 
almost  abrupt  finality  in  the  words, 

"No,  no,  I  am  not  too  apprehensive.  I  feel 
that  she  really  loves  him,  though  without  know- 
ing it.  She  is  so  changed  from  the  sunny,  sing- 
ing child  of  a  year  ago — she  broods,  she  starts  at 
nothing,  she  is  restless  night  and  day,  and  the 


1.98         THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


tears  are  always  so  near — oh,  my  little  girl,  my 
little  girl !  " 

"Come,  little  mother,"  said  Rene  temlcrly,  "no 
real  harm  has  been  done  if  she  isn't  aware  she 
loves  him.  It  is  all  romance,  this  affair,  from 
beginning  to  end.  Adventure  in  the  wild,  rescue, 
protection  and  mystery,  bird  calls  at  dawn,—  all 
this  is  the  kind  of  tinder  that  sets  fire  to  a  girl's 
heart.    Do  you  not  think  so.  Mamma?" 

She  nodded  her  head  with  a  rueful  little  smile, 
and  responded, 

"Yes,  it  is  true,  dear.  Our  little  Valerie  left 
us  to  go  north,  a  child,  and  went  through  all  this 
experience  during  tht  most  impressionable  period 
of  her  life.  What  wonder  that  she  returns  to 
us  a  woman,  with  an  awakened  heart  and  a 
woman's  longing,  though  in  judgment  still  but  a 
child?" 

"Ah,  but.  Mother,  I  don't  feel  that  her  heart 
is  really  awakened  yet.  If  it  were,  there  would 
be  definite  action  on  her  part.  She  would  be 
moved  to  meet  him  when  he  calls  at  dawn,  and 
not  be  content  with  but  a  child's  answering  signal." 

"Yes,  yes,  dear  heart,"  the  tremulous  mother 
replied,  "but  what  next — ^what  next?  Her  rest- 
less little  heart  will  soon  awake,  and  then  she 
will  recognize  and  kuozL-  what  now  she  only  feels. 
Just  a  sudden  breath  would  kindle  a  flame  that 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  199 


you  and  I  would  be  powerless  to  stifle.  It  might 
even  come  t  -morrow — who  knows? 

"Mother,  I  know,"  replied  Rene  resolutely. 
"Now  that  I  know  where  to  find  him,  I  shall  meet 
him  myself  to-morrow  morning,  and  ^" 

♦'But  Rene  " 

"No,  no,  Mamma,  I  will  not  forget  all  that 
he  has  done  for  us,  but  neither  will  I  forget  that 
his  blood  is  red,  and  that  there  are  more  ways 
than  one  to  pay  a  debt  of  gratitude." 

So  the  next  morning  when  Elan  d'  Eau  stepped 
from  the  shadow  of  the  trees,  he  saw  advancing 
from  the  house  toward  him  the  stout  form  of 
Valerie's  father.  Folding  his  arms  on  his  breast, 
he  awaited  the  approach  of  the  trauter.  Rene 
looking  up  into  his  calm,  clear  eyes,  addressed  him 
kindly. 

"I  am  glad  to  meet  my  red  brother,"  he  said. 
•'I  have  sought  him  for  a  long  time." 

Elan  bowed  gravely,  but  made  no  reply. 

"Why,"  asked  the  white  man,  "has  the  young 
warrior  hidden  himself  from  his  friends?" 

"I  am  not  of  the  people  of  my  friend,  the 
white  man,"  Elan  answered  slowly.  "The  ways 
of  the  white  people  are  not  my  ways,  and  I  would 
be  a  stranger  among  them." 

"Yet  you  saved  the  white  maiden,"  the  trader 
said,  "and  her  father  has  a  grateful  heart.  But 


200        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


you  speak  true  when  you  say  you  are  strange  in 
the  ways  of  my  people,  and  I  am  strange  in  the 

ways  of  your  people.  I  do  not  understand  why 
you  come  each  morning  to  signal  beneath  the  win- 
dow of  my  daughter." 

Speaking  very  gravely,  Elan  answered : 

"The  young  warrior,"  he  said,  "has  no  people. 
He  is  dead  to  his  tribe.  The  young  warrior  has 
but  one  friend.  So  he  comes  each  day  with  the 
dawn  to  sing  with  the  voice  of  the  thrush,  under 
the  window  of  the  I  humming  Bird.  Does  he  do 
a  wrong  thing?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Rene  positively.  "Perhaps  not 
according  to  the  ways  of  the  Indian,  but  wrong 
according  to  the  ways  of  the  white.  Listen !  The 
Humming  Bird  is  but  a  child,  and  the  heart  of 
a  child  is  like  dried  twigs  in  the  forest,  easy  to 
set  on  fire.    Does  my  red  brother  understand?" 

Elan  nodded  his  head  without  answering. 

"Humming  Bird,"  Rene  went  on,  eagerly, 
"must  dwell  in  the  ways  of  her  own  people.  She 
is  a  white  girl,  my  friend  is  an  Indian.  Does  my 
red  brother  understand?", 

Two  tears  gathered  in  the  eyes  of  Elan  and 
rolled  down  his  cheeks.  De  Boncour  observed 
them  with  a  start  of  amazement. 

"I  have  hurt  the  heart  of  my  red  brother,"  he 
said,  sympathetically. 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  201 


Elan  d*  Eau  remained  silent,  motionless,  while 
the  embarrassed  and  nonplussed  Frenchman 
awaited  a  reply.  The  young  man  only  turned  his 
eyes,  glistening  with  heavy  tears,  upward  toward 
the  far  window  of  his  Humming  Bird. 

"I  am  sorry — sorry,"  finally  spoke  Rene  de 
Boncour,  moved  more  deeply  than  he  cared  to 
betray,  at  the  visible  sign  of  grief  in  an  Indian. 
Between  men  the  moment  of  tears  is  always  tense. 
"But  can't  you  understand?  You  must  under- 
stand," he  continued,  impatient  with  his  own  emo- 
tion. "You  must  go  away,  else  it  were  better 
you  had  let  my  daughter  perish  under  the  toma- 
hawks of  your  tribe.  But  the  father  of  the  Hum- 
ming Bird  is  not  ungrateful.  See,  this  bag  of 
goldl  You  shall  be  rich  among  your  people.  This 
Is  money — wampum.  It  will  buy  you  power, 
everything  that  you  could  wish.  This  gold  is  all 
yours.  You  deserve  it.  With  it  you  can  reach 
your  tribe  in  safety  and  be  their  chief.  Take  it, 
Elan  d'  Eau,  and  with  it  our  endless  gratitude, 
and — depart!" 

He  proffered  the  leather  pouch  to  the  young 
man. 

Elan  d'  Eau  stood  motionless,  his  arms  folded 
on  his  breast,  his  eyes  fixed  always  on  the  window 
of  his  Humming  Bird. 

The  Frenchman  waited,  urging  the  bag  of  gold. 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


"You  wish  the  happiness  of  the  Humming  Bird, 
do  you  not?"  Without  waiting  for  a  reply,  he 
continued.  "Her  future  happiness  and  welfare 
arc  all  that  there  is  in  life  for  her  mother  and 
me.  From  the  time  she  was  born  we  have  planned 
for  her,  and  have  hoped  that  some  day  she  would 
marry  a  man  of  her  own  race,  in  some  position  of 
honor  and  trust  among  his  people.  She  is  a  child 
yet,  an  l  knows  nothing  of  love,  or  of  the  respon- 
sibilities of  a  woman.  It  •.  uld  be  most  unfair, 
a  deep  hurt  to  her  for  you  to  remain  here." 

Slowly  Elan's  eyes  turned  toward  the  trader. 

"White  man,  father  of  the  Humming  Bird," 
finally  spoke  the  young  man,  "listen!  I  am  an 
Indian.  I  was  born  in  the  wilderness,  with  things 
that  are  wild.  But  wildness  Is  not  cruelty.  The 
forests  hold  kindness  as  well.  If  I  should  attempt 
a  cruel  thing,  the  Great  Spirit  would  say  to  my 
heart,  no !  The  things  of  the  forest  do  not  say 
false  words,  father  of  the  Humming  Bird.  The 
winds  sing  a  true  song  among  the  pines,  back  there 
in  the  north.  The  voice  of  Rushing  Water  is 
not  a  lie." 

The  Frenchman  showed  his  deep  embarrass- 
ment, and  hastened  to  say. 

"Forgive  me.  I  meant  no  insult,  no  accusa- 
tion. You  have  a  noble  heart,  if  your  skin  is 
dark." 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  203 


"What  matters  the  color  of  the  tkin?"  Elan 
questioned.  "It  is  what  the  Great  Spirit  puts  in 
the  heart  that  makes  a  man,  whether  he  be  an 
Indian  or  a  white.  Your  gold  cannot  buy  me  a 
white  skin,  nor  a  higher  place  among  my  people. 
Rushing  Water  is  a  chief.  Rushing  Water  is  tiie 
son  of  a  chief.  But  listen,  father  of  the  Hum- 
ming Bird,"  he  continued,  and  his  voice  grew  stern. 
"When  my  people  were  avenging  their  wrongs 
on  the  white  man.  suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  blood 
and  death,  Rushing  Water  saw  the  Humming 
Bird.  The  Great  Spirit  spoke  to  him,  and  told 
him  to  protect  her.  Rushing  Watei  did  his  will. 
He  never  shall  return.  He  is  cut  off  from  his 
people.  Rushing  Water  is  a  chief,  but  he  has  no 
warriors.  Rushing  Water  is  a  chief,  but  he  has 
no  tribe.  He  is  alone.  But  the  Great  Spirit  told 
him  to  protect  the  Humming  Bird.  Rushing 
Water  did  so.  He  does  so  now.  White  man, 
Rushing  Water  is  her  warrior!" 

The  Frenchman  turned  aside  to  lay  the  bag  of 
gold  on  a  nearby  garden  seat,  and  in  utter  be- 
wilderment started  to  exclaim, 

"But  you  cannot  " 

He  lookc('  up. 

The  Indian  was  gone. 


CHAPTER  XX 


THE  DECISION 

When  Rene  tie  Boncour  joined  his  wife  in  the 
house  he  felt  beaten,  and  dejectedly  rehearsed  the 
scene  with  the  Indian. 

"It  seems  incredible,"  he  concluded,  "that  he 
a>uld  refuse  the  money.  He  had  nothing — no 
home,  no  people,  no  friends  but  us,  and  our 
friendship  must  seem  a  strange  and  perverse  thing 
to  him.  How  does  he  live?  He  is  proud  as  a 
King,  and  has  notions  of  honor  that  his  white 
bi others  might  note  to  their  advantage.  But 
what  shall  we  do — what  shall  we  do?  No  time 
must  be  lost,  not  even  a  day.  Who  knows  what 
an  Indian  might  do?" 

During  this  speech  the  Frenchman  paced  the 
floor  in  unconc  u\cd  agitation,  which  was  fully 
shared  by  his  wife. 

"He  said  he  was  her  warrior!"  she  exclaimed. 
"Does  he  not  realize  that  we  are  her  natural  pro- 
tectors, and  now  that  she  is  safe  with  us  again 
she  does  not  need  a  warrior?" 

204 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


205 


"Little  mother,  is  she  safe  with  us  ?  Is  she  sa  fc 
from  him  anywhere  in  this  country?  VV-ould  \vc 
be  doing  right  in  keeping  her  here,  with  an  Imlian, 
who  has  nothing  in  the  world  to  h)se,  constantly 
watching  her?  I  don't  know  what  it  is  I  fear, 
but  I  am  desperate  with  an  apprehension  that  I 
cannot  define." 

Again  the  woman^s  intuition  directed  the 
father's  gropings,  and  she  replied  with  decision. 

"I  know  what  I  fear.  It  is  my  daughter—  :ny 
little  woman-daughter.  She  has  the  same  fine 
notions  of  honor  as  this  Flan,  ami  in  addition, 
a  high-strung,  romantic  heart  that  would  brook 
no  guidance,  should  a  climax  threaten.  She  must 
go  away,  dear.  We  must  send  our  little  girl 
away  again,  and  there  is  only  one  place — and  so 
far  away!  France!" 

"Ah,  France!  The  very  thing,  and  I  have  a 
boat  sailing  to-morrow,"  he  crie»^  with  immense 
relief.  "Mme.  de  Cardot  goes  in  the  brig  Marie 
Celeste,  and  she  will  take  care  of  N'alerie.  It  is 
time  that  she  finished  her  education  in  the  old 
country.  Once  there,  with  the  faithful  nu)  s,  she 
will  be  perfectly  safe,  and  this  romance,  that  was 
born  only  of  novelty  and  excitement,  will  die  a 
natural  death.   It  will  have  nothing  to  feed  upon." 

"Sh —  Shi    Here  she  comes!"  warned  the 


2o6        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


mother,  as  the  f^rVs  buoyant  step  was  heard  on 
the  stair. 

Receiving  the  tender  greetings  of  her  parents, 
Valerie  turned  eagerly  to  her  father. 

"Papa  dear,  I  saw  you  from  my  window  talk- 
ing to  Elan.  What  did  he  say?  When  will  he 
come  to  see  us?*'  she  questioned  eagerly. 

The  embarrassed  father  parried  for  time,  and 
evading  her  direct  questions,  answered  haltingly. 

"Well,  you  see,  Valerie,  he  seemed  to  wish  not 
to  take  the  bag  of  gold, — this,  here — which  I 
offered  him  as  a  sort  of  reward,  you  know.  He  is 
somewhat  shy  perhaps,  and, — er — er — well,  he 
didn't  take  it,  and — and — and  of  course  he  ought 
to,  as  he  has  no  means,  but  he  wouldn't — that  is, 
he  didn't,  and  " 

"Father,  did  you  ask  him  to  come  to  see  us?" 
cried  the  girl  in  much  distress. 

"Why,  Valerie,  you  see,"  stumbled  Rene,  "we 
can't  exactly  ask  him  to  come  to  see  us — ^What 
would  we  do  with  him?" 

"Do?  Why,  be  good  to  him,  of  course. 
Wasn't  he  good  to  mc?  Don't  you  realize,  Papa, 
th-'  he  saved  my  life,  not  once,  but  several  times? 
Wc  ought  to  do  something  for  him — something 
big  and  splendid — why,  Papa,  aren't  you  grate- 
ful?" she  cried  reproachfully. 

"Little  Daughter,"  the  anxious  mother  inter- 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  207 


rupted,  "can't  you  see  that  we  are  grateful,  when 
we  offer  him  so  much  money?  But  he  isn't  hkc 
us — his  ways  are  not  our  ways,  his  blood  not  our 
blood.  He  is,  you  see,  an  Indian,  while  we 
are — — 

"He  is  an  Indian,  a  redskin,"  the  father  broke 

in  impatiently.  His  daughter  turned  on  him  a 
pair  of  eyes  that  he  realized  he  had  never  seen 
before.  In  desperation  he  continued  hastily,  "Yes, 
a  redskin!  He  is  familiar  with  murders  and 
massacres,  tortures  and  treacheries,  and  all  sorts 
of  barbaric  horrors.  He  is  savage.  Can  we  ask 
a  savage  to  our  home?  We  do  owe  him  a  great 
debt.  But  we  cannot  pay  him  by  offering  him 
something  he  could  not  be  expected  to  appre- 
ciate. His  care  of  you  was  like  the  faithfulness 
of  a  dog,  but  we  would  not  ask  a  dog  to  dine 

with  us  " 

"A  dog,  father,  a  dog?  Do  you  call  Elan  a 
dog?  Oh,  Papa,  Papa  "  she  broke  into  sob- 
bing— not  the  petulant  tears  of  a  child.  A 
woman's  hurt  was  there,  that  echoed  the  mother's 
fears. 

"Ah,  but  Valerie!  Listen!"  coaxed  the  father, 
grasping  for  an  ally — "We  have  such  good  news 
for  you — seel  You  shall  go  to  France,  dear  old 
France,  our  old  home,  child.  You  shall  sail  to- 
morrow, with  your  dear  Mme.  de  Cardot.  Your 


2o8        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


mother  and  I  were  just  planning  It  all  for  you 
when  you  came  in.  Won't  it  be  glorious?  You 
can  finish  your  schooling,  and  then  " 

"France?  Go  away?"  stammered  the  girl  gasp- 
ingly,— the  color  receding  from  her  face — "I — 
will — not — go!  Never!"  More  vehemently — "I 
— will  never  leave — this  place — never!  never!" 
She  rushed  from  the  room, — and  the  speechless 
parents  heard  the  passionate  patter  of  her  feet 
on  the  stairs. 

"Weill"  said  the  father. 

"Well?"  echoed  the  mother. 

"What  next?"  moaned  the  father. 

"Ah,  what?"  sighed  the  mother. 

"She  must  go,  of  course,"  said  Rene,  and  with 
unspoken  but  sure  understanding,  the  mother's  fine 
interpretation  of  her  husband's  statement  was  that 
to  her  fell  the  delicate  task  of  restoring  harmony, 
healing  wounds,  and  generally  smoothing  all  the 
difficulties  that  lay  in  the  way  of  starting  her  re- 
bellious daughter  peacefully  away  on  her  journey. 
To  her  everlasting  credit,  and  to  the  everlasting 
glory  of  all  such  saints,  the  Peacemakers  of 
Homes,  let  it  be  known  that  Mme.  de  Boncour, 
brave,  tender,  and  with  aching  heart,  lovingly 
hastened  all  preparations  for  her  daughter's  jour- 
ney across  the  ocean  to  the  land  of  safety. 


CHAPTER  XXI 


THE  SWIMMER  IN  THE  MOONLIGHT 

A  slight  breeze  had  sprung  up  with  the  ttlng 
of  the  sun  and  Captain  Edmond  Bart,  the  sturdy, 
weather-beaten  master  of  the  brig  Marie  Celeste, 
had  spread  every  stitch  of  her  white  canvas  on 
the  wide  reaching  yards  to  catch  its  feeble  propul- 
sion. The  anchor  chains  had  clanked  up  through 
the  hawse  pipe,  the  anchor  had  been  made  fast 
and  the  vessel's  head  swung  around  under  the 
impulse  of  tide  and  breeze. 

As  the  ship  got  under  way  there  slipped  round 
under  her  stem  and  headed  for  the  landing,  a 
small  boat  vigorously  rowed  by  two  negro  lads. 
In  the  stern  of  the  little  craft  sat  a  man  and  a 
woman,  and  no  second  glance  was  needed  for  the 
recognition  of  Rene  de  Boncour  and  his  wife. 
Rene's  round  countenance  was  very  solemn  and 
very  red,  but  distressed  as  he  was  he  kept  his 
self-control.  The  desolated  mother,  however, 
gave  way  to  her  anguish  and  sobbed  out  her  grief 
over  the  parting  with  the  beloved  daughter.  She 

209 


2IO        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


had  left  Valerie  alone  in  her  cabin  at  the  parting, 
the  poor  child's  face  drenched  in  tears.  Madame 
de  Boncour  with  that  unfailing  yet  inexplicable 
power  of  mothers,  had  softened  her  daughter's 
heart  so  that  the  girl  unquestionably  made  her 
quick  preparation  for  departure  when  bidden  to 
do  so  by  her  father.  Sympathetic,  her  heart  torn 
by  grief  and  fear,  ''ttle  Madame  de  Boncour  had 
kept  a  shrewd  watch  on  her  daughter,  but  there 
had  be  cn  no  thrush's  pipe  in  the  garden  shrubbery 
and  no  sign  of  Elan  d'  Eau,  and  now  at  last  the 
mother  deemed  her  daughter  safe  in  the  cabin  of 
the  brig,  and  the  exhausting  strain  of  apprehen- 
sion over,  she  indulged  her  natural  grief. 

The  rowboat  pulled  up  alongside  the  levee  and 
Rene  assisted  his  wife  to  land,  and  they  both 
turned  and  through  misty  eyes  watched  the  great 
ship. 

On  his  quarterdeck  Captain  Bart  stood  beside 
the  helmsman,  his  eyes  now  sweeping  the  sky,  now 
scanning  the  hungry  sails  lappinc?  eagerly  at  each 
gust  of  wind.  His  orders  came  short  and  quick 
as  he  tacked  back  and  forth,  taking  advantage  of 
every  puff  and  trick  of  the  current.  Thus  engaged 
he  did  not  see  a  dark  hanJ  that  appeared  on  the 
starboard  mainmast  shroud,  nor  was  he  aware  of 
an  unbidden  guest  until  a  dripping  Indian,  who 
had  leaped  agilely  over  the  rail,  stood  upon  the 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  211 


deck.   His  glance  slipping  down  to  note  the  set 

of  the  main  sheet,  rested  on  this  figure. 

"Ha !"  he  exclaimed  in  amazement,  "who  is 
this?    How  did  you  get  here,  and  what  is  your 

business?" 

Then  the  light  of  understanding  gleamed  in  his 
eyes.  His  employer,  Valerie's  father,  had  warned 
him  against  Rushing  Water  and  had  told  him 
enough  of  the  Indian's  persistence  to  put  him  on 
his  guard.  At  the  sound  of  hi^  voice  the  crew 
had  turned  and  now  several  of  them  were  ad- 
vancing toward  the  rail  against  which  the  Indian 
leaned.  With  a  level  glance  Rushing  Water 
looked  up  at  the  ship's  master,  who  was  leaning 
now  over  the  light  rail  that  guarded  his  quarter- 
deck. 

"The  Indian  wishes  to  go  to  distant  lands.  Ho 
would  work  for  the  white  chief  on  the  great 
canoe." 

"N'^"  on  this  boat,"  gruffly  replied  the  captain. 
"Ah  ere,  mes  enfants!  Overboard  with  him ! 
We  h    --  no  time  u;  waste." 

His  sharp  words  reached  the  ears  of  Valerie 
alone  In  her  cabin.  She  rushed  to  the  porthole 
and  looked  out,  listening  eagerly.  Up  on  deck 
the  voice  of  the  young  warrior  pleaded. 

"Let  me  go  with  you!  Let  me  go!  I  will 
work,  I  will  pay." 


2iz        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 

He  paused;  then  straightening  himself  to  the 
full  measure  of  his  magnificent  height,  while  the 
admiring  sailors  noted  the  play  of  the  muscles 
under  his  satin  skin,  he  said: 

"Listen  to  me,  white  chief!  I  am  a  chief  and 
I  do  not  lie.  The  Humming  Bird  is  on  your 
great  canoe.  I  must  go  with  her,  for  I  am  her 
warrior." 

"Overboard  I"  roared  the  captain  angrily. 
Watching  from  the  porthole  Valerie  saw  a 

form  shoot  downward  and  disappear  with  the 
splash  of  spray.  Another  moment  a  shining  head 
and  glistening  shoulder  appeared  and  the  Indian, 
smiling  up  at  the  face  framed  by  the  porthole, 
swam  close  to  the  vessel's  side,  keeping  easily 
abreast.  The  girl  waved  her  hand  to  him  as  he 
slipped  with  easy,  even  motion  through  the  water, 
and  called  out: 

"Good-by,  good-by!" 

The  sunset  breeze  freshened,  the  great  sun 
bannered  in  the  low  sky,  and  the  ship  sw'ung  into 
its  glow,  easing  away  before  the  air  current.  For 
a  while  the  warrior  swam  even  with  the  open  port, 
his  eyes  on  the  little  fuce  which  it  framed.  Twi- 
light deepened,  a  star  came  out,  and  the  last  glory 
of  tlie  sun's  pennants  was  reflected  softly  on  the 
waters. 

Still  the  swimmer  paced  the  ship  untiring,  but 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  213 


with  each  stroke  the  vessel  gained  on  him.  The 
porthole  and  the  face  imprisoned  in  it  disappeared 
from  his  vision.  He  saw  a  Buttering  hand,  and 
then  the  great  stern  of  the  ship  intervened.  The 
sky  was  dark  now,  but  the  full  moon  rose  behind 
the  boat  and  sped  a  silver  shaft  in  whose  light 
the  name  of  the  brig  standing  in  huge  gold  letters 
on  the  stern  was  clearly  discernible.  Close  in  the 
wake  the  swimmer  followed,  his  eyes  on  the  glitter- 
ing letters. 

There  was  a  surge  under  the  bows  now  for  the 
night  wind  had  freshened  and  the  space  between 
the  lonely  swimmer  and  the  stern  of  the  ship  in- 
creased rapidly.  Standing  with  his  hand  on  the 
rail,  Captain  Bart  watched  the  unequal  struggle 
between  the  wind  and  human  longing,  and  felt  a 
sudden  sympathy  for  this  man  of  an  alien  race 
glow  under  his  uniform  coat. 

"Bravely  done,"  he  breathed  under  his 
breath.  "By  the  star  of  the  north  I  never  saw 
such  a  swimmer, — nor  such  a  lover!  Our  lit- 
tle passenger  below  may  well  be  proud  of  de- 
votion like  that.  Eh,  but  it  is  a  hopeless  job, 
my  brave." 

He  watched  the  dark  head  farther  and  farther 
astern  in  the  radiant  path  of  the  moon.  At  last 
it  was  so  far  away  that  he  had  to  strain  his  eyes 


214        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


to  catch  a  glimpse  of  it  bobbing  in  the  silver  spray. 
Then  he  lost  it.  He  leaned  far  over  the  rail  to 
see,  but  the  sheen  of  the  moon  was  broken  only 
by  the  waves. 


CHAPTTR  XXII 


THE  STOWAWAY 

The  short,  mild  winter  had  passed  and  the 
tender  green  of  spring  was  again  upon  the  vege- 
tation of  Louisiana.  At  anchor  in  the  broad  river, 
just  off  the  de  Boncour  levee,  swung  the  good  ship 
Juliette  of  Bordeaux.  She  was  a  majestic  vessel 
of  five  hundred  tons,  high,  fore  and  aft,  and  deep- 
waisted;  her  main,  mizzen  and  foremasts  tower- 
ing above  her  snowy  decks  seemed  to  pierce  the 
sky,  and  the  width  of  her  yard  arms  indicated  an 
unusual  spread  of  canvas.  On  board  this  beau- 
tiful and  powerful  vessel  was  every  sign  of  ex- 
cellent discipline.  The  spotless  decks,  the  neatly 
coiled  lines,  the  closely  furled  sails  which  lay  in 
sn  )wy  rel's  along  the  yard  arms,  were  all  telltale 
signs  of  an  efficient  commander  and  a  quick  and 
obedient  crew.  Indeed,  the  commander  himself 
in  his  person,  as  he  now  emerged  from  a  com- 
panionway  and  stepped  out  on  the  quarter  deck, 
bore  out  the  impression  created  by  the  condition 
of  his  ship.  His  white  blouse  was  buttoned  to  his 

215 


2i6        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


throat,  despite  the  heat  of  the  day.  His  cap  was 
firmly  set  upon  his  ^ray  hair,  which,  descending 
ov  er  his  colhir,  was  tied  in  a  ribbon,  the  loops  and 
free  einis  of  which  were  so  accurately  matched  in 
length  ;-s  to  seem  to  have  been  measured  with  a 
rule.  His  jaw  was  square,  his  mouth  firm,  his 
brows  level,  and  his  eyes  keen  and  steady  beneath 
them. 

"Well,  my  friend,"  he  said  crisply  but  not  un- 
kinilly  to  a  young  Indian  who  hail  just  clambered 
over  the  side  from  a  canoe.  "What  can  I  do  for 
you?" 

The  Indian  drew  from  the  bosom  of  his  shirt 
a  piece  of  bark  which  he  presented  to  the  cap- 
tain. Rude  lettering  had  been  scrawled  upon  its 
flat  surface.  As  the  captain  took  it  in  his  hands 
he  glanced  down  upon  these  words: 


"Well!"  he  said,  looking  up  with  a  question  in 
his  eyes. 

The  Indian  laid  a  dark  finger  upon  the  upper 
line. 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  217 


"What  means  that  totem?"  he  asked. 

Captain  Franqois  Halcvy  smiled  again. 

"So  you  take  inc  for  a  schooliiiasti-r,"  he  said. 
"Well,  all  rijiht.  The  si;j;n  means  Marie  Cilcste. 
It  is  the  name  of  a  ship." 

The  Indian  smiled  understandingly. 

"And  this?"  he  asked,  placing  his  hand  on  the 
word  below. 

"Bordeaux,"  read  Captain  llalevy.  "That  is 
the  name  of  a  hij^  city  in  the  white  man's  country, 
where  there  are  many  houses  and  many  people." 

"It  is  pictured  on  the  back  of  your  great  canoe," 
the  Indian  said. 

"Yes,"  answered  the  captain,  "like  the  Marie 
Celeste,  we  come  from  Bordeaux." 

"And,"  asked  the  Indian  quietly,  "when  you 
cross  the  hip;  water,  do  you  go  to  Bordeaux?" 

Captain  Halevy  nodded.  His  visitor  seemed 
satisfied.  He  returned  the  tablet  of  bark  to  the 
breast  of  his  shirt. 

"Rushing  Water  is  thankful,"  he  said,  with  a 
grave  inclination  of  his  head.  "He  wanted  to 
know  what  the  totem  meant.  When  he  saw  it  on 
the  back  of  your  ship,  he  came  on  board  to  ask 
you." 

Then  the  young  Indian  turned,  swung  himself 
over  the  side,  and  was  soon  paddling  away  down 
the  river. 


2i8        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


Captain  Halevy  watched  with  admiration  the 
strength  and  suppleness  of  his  figure. 

"Ah  I"  he  said  under  his  breath,  "some  of  these 
savages  are  great  men.  'Tis  a  pity  they  do  not 
take  to  the  sea." 

The  Juliette  was  laden  at  last,  with  furs  and 
cotton  bales,  and  long  sleeves  of  tobacco  from  the 
plantations  further  up  the  stream.  Rene  de  Bon- 
cour  placed  in  the  captain's  hands  for  delivery  to 
his  daughter  in  Bordeaux,  a  great  package  of 
letters. 

Just  before  the  anchor  was  broken  out  of  the 
mud  in  the  bottom  of  the  Mississippi,  Captain 
Halevy  received  on  board  the  one  passenger  who 
was  to  accompany  him  back  to  France.  This  pas- 
senger was  a  short,  fragile  priest  of  the  Jesuit 
Order,  returning  to  the  parent  house  in  the  old 
country  after  a  long  period  of  missionary  service 
In  the  wilderness.  The  sea  captain  approved  the 
wrinkled,  weather-beaten  face,  with  its  ample  fore- 
head, its  halo  of  pure  white  hair  descending  from 
the  tonsured  crown,  and  the  keen,  humorous  eyes 
that  twinkled  under  shaggy  brows. 

"The  Juliette  should  have  a  happy  voyage, 
Father,"  he  said,  "since  she  carries  a  holy  man." 

"Holy  men,  captain,"  replied  the  priest,  the 
smile  deepening  in  his  eyes,  "do  not  always  have 
happy  voyages  in  this  world." 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  219 


"Well,"  answered  the  captain,  "if  it  be  other- 
wise with  the  Juliette  and  we  do  not  get  safe  to 
our  harbor  in  France,  at  least  with  so  excellent  a 
pilot,  we  should  make  p;ood  weather  after  the 
world  has  done  its  worst  with  us." 

Father  Reville  laughed  soft)y  and  went  below 
to  stow  his  meager  belongings  in  the  cabin  placed 
at  his  disposal.  Up  on  deck  he  could  hear  the 
patter  of  hurrying  feet  and  the  sharp  words  of 
command.  The  windlass  began  to  turn  and  the 
anchor  chain  to  creak  in  the  hawse  pipes.  Pulley 
blocks  groaned  shrilly,  as  the  swiftly  handled  lines 
whistled  through  them,  and  there  was  a  flapping 
as  of  great  wings  as  the  yards  slatted  and  the  big 
vessel  gathered  headway.  Captain  Halevy  at  the 
wheel  maneuvered  his  vessel  skilfully,  takinji;  ad- 
vantage of  every  shift  in  the  wind  and  every  trick 
of  the  current,  as  he  followed  the  windings  of  the 
river  down  to  the  Mexican  Gulf.  Then  with  a 
fair,  free  wind  blowing  over  his  quarter,  he  flat- 
tened sail  and  headed  south  and  east  toward  the 
Florida  Keys.  They  still  bore  the  land  on  the 
larboard  beam,  when,  several  days  after  their  ile- 
parture,  Father  Reville,  his  "Book  of  I  lours"  in 
his  hand,  strolled  up  and  down  in  the  waist  of  the 
ship.  The  good  priest  started  as  he  saw  one  of 
the  life  boats,  lying  keel  up  on  the  deck,  move 
ever  so  slightly.  At  last  the  side  of  the  boat  was 


220        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


raised  a  few  feet,  and  a  dark  figure  rolled  out 
on  the  deck.   As  his  quick  eyes  took  in  the  stow- 
away, Father  Rcville  exclaimed: 
"Hal   An  Indian." 

"Yes,"  answered  the  man,  who  had  now  gained 
his  feet  and  stood  towering  above  the  little  priest. 
"I  am  an  Indian." 

"But  why  were  you  hidden  there?"  the  Father 
inquired.   "No  fire  water?" 

The  Indian  shook  his  head. 

"No,  Black  Robe,"  he  answered,  "T  drink  no 
fire  water.  I  would  go  to  the  big  city  the  white 
men  call  Bordeaux." 

A  look  of  surprise  came  into  the  priest's  eyes. 

"Eh!"  he  said.  "You  would  go  to  Bordeaux, 
my  son?  And  why  Bordeaux?  ' Tis  the  flight  of 
many  eagles  from  the  home  of  the  red  man." 

The  Indian  shook  his  head. 

"Rushing  Water  has  no  home,"  he  said. 

"Ahl"  the  pric't  answered  him  quickly  and  in 
the  Delaware  tongue.  "My  son  Is  of  the  Algon- 
quin people?    Me  is  not  a  southern  man?" 

The  Indian  was  silent. 

"Are  you  from  the  lake  country?"  the  priest 
asked  again. 

With  perfect  gravity  and  without  a  trace  of 
ofiense,  in  the  simple  manner  of  one  who  dis- 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  221 


passionately  states  a  commonplace,  the  warrior 
answered  him : 

"Rushing  Water  does  not  wish  to  speak  of  his 
home  or  his  people.  He  has  no  people  and  no 
home." 

"Hey!  What  have  we  here!"  sounded  a  voice 
behind  him.  "Hello!  It  is  my  Indian.  So  tliis  is 
the  reason  you  asked  for  Bordeaux,  that  you  might 
steal  passage,  hey?" 

The  captain  spoke  brusquely  and  his  eyes  were 
severe.  Father  Reville  laid  a  gentle  hand  upon 
his  arm. 

"Let  me  plead  for  him,  captain,"  he  said.  "He 
is  one  of  those  whom  it  is  my  business  to  save. 
See,  he  is  strong  and  able,  could  he  not  give  serv- 
ice in  payment  for  his  passage?" 

Captain  Halevy  hesitated  a  moment,  running 
his  eyes  over  the  lean  and  sinewy  form  of  the 
young  man. 

"I  luniph  !"  he  said.  "If  he  knew  how  to  handle 
a  rope  he  might  be  useful.  However,  if  you  want 
him.  Father,  try  to  make  a  Christian  of  him,  and 
as  for  me,  perhaps  I  can  make  a  sailor  of  him." 

The  priest  explained  rapidly  in  the  Delaware 
tongue  the  purpose  of  the  captain  and  was  re- 
wr.-ded  when  a  smile  of  pleasure  appeared  upon 
the  dark  features  of  the  stowaway. 

Rushing  Water  was  led  into  the  forecastle  and 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


provided  with  a  berth.  The  sallormcn  were  inter- 
ested rather  than  offended  by  the  appearance  of 
an  Indian  as  a  mess-mate,  and  they  heartily  entered 
into  the  task  of  teaching  him  the  tricks  of  their 
trade.  His  quick  intelligence,  his  deft  hands,  and 
the  tremendous  strength  that  lay  in  the  coiled 
muscles  of  that  supple  body  of  his,  soon  made  him 
a  valuable  member  of  the  crew.  He  was  quick 
as  a  cat  on  his  feet. 

Meanwhile,  Father  Reville  having  had  a  new 
task  set  for  him  by  Providence,  started  with  char- 
acteristic directness  and  eagerness  to  do  this  un- 
expected piece  of  missionary  work. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 


THE  QUESTION 

It  was  inevitable  that  the  Jesuit  priest  and  the 

Indian  stowaway,  whose  presence  and  purpose  on 
board  the  Juliette  the  former  had  so  happily  recon- 
ciled to  the  mind  of  the  brusque  but  ^ood-natured 
captain,  would  be  thrown  much  together  in  the 
long  voyage  that  laybefore  them—and  this  in  spite 
of  the  different  stations  they  were  to  occupy.  The 
missionary  zeal  of  the  priest  alone  would  suffi- 
ciently explain  and  vindicate  any  effort  he  might 
put  forth  to  seek  the  company  of  Klan  d'Kau;  and 
as  for  the  Indian  himself,  his  innate  love  of  the 
mystical  would  be  sure  to  attract  hi*-'  to  the  man 
whose  religious  vocation  was  revealeu  ny  his  dress 
and  accentuated,  without  deliberate  purpose  on 
his  part,  by  all  his  manner  of  life.  There  was  this 
additional  att  miction,  th-^t  the  priest  possessed  a 
fair  knowledge  of  tlie  Imiian  tongue  -nd  even  of 
the  very  dialect  in  which  Klan  d'  Eau  \.as  so  thor- 
oughly versed.  In  all  their  interviews  an  outside 
observer  would  have  found  much  to  whet  the 

223 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


hunger  of  an  honest  study  in  human  character. 
The  winsomeness  of  the  priest  was  ill  disguised 
by  his  accomplished  diplomacy;  and  the  rare  cau- 
tion and  taciturnity  of  the  young  Indian  but  thinly 
veiled  his  growing  fondness  for  the  versatile 
churchman.  F.ach  had  much  <o  learn  from  the 
other;  and  the  instinctive  reverence  which  the 
good  Father  received  from  the  untutored  child 
of  the  forest  was  returned  in  something  far 
deeper  and  truer  than  a  condescending  gradous- 
iicss.  Manhood  is  ever  quick  to  recognize  its 
kind! 

The  missionary,  for  the  Jesuit  is  always  that, 
was  too  wise  to  make  his  underlying  wish  obnox- 
ious by  resolving  it  into  a  constant  point  of  con- 
tact. But  from  time  to  time  there  would  fall  from 
his  lips,  in  the  most  natural  way  imaginable,  such 
words  of  wisdom  as  reflect  the  truth  more  attrac- 
tively than  direct  statements  can  present  it.  When 
one  places  a  rose  in  the  hand  of  a  child  it  is  not 
necessary  to  call  his  attention  to  the  fact  that  the 
rose  is  beautiful.  From  time  to  time,  also,  brief 
questions  would  be  put  by  the  caurious  yet  ven- 
turesome mind  of  the  young  man  which  were  the 
surface  hints  of  thoughts  deep  as  eternity. 

Father  Revllle  may,  or  may  not.  have  known 
how  thoroughly  he  was  being  studied  by  the  keen 
mind  he  had  taken  to  himself  for  the  pleasure 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  225 


of  companionship  and  the  good  that  might  follow. 
The  magnetic  personality  of  the  priest  had  ren- 
dered his  every  act  and  word  a  matter  of  su- 
preme Importance  to  the  bron/c-fcatured  man 
whose  mind  and  heart  were  c(]ually  busy  in  the 
search  for  a  trail  that  would  answer  their  mutual 
needs. 

The  wind  which  had  been  baffling  most  of  the 
way  to  the  southeast,  necessitating  long  reaches 
back  and  forth  across  the  soft  gale  blowing  stead- 
ily from  the  south,  was  much  inore  favorable  when 
the  Julieite  swung  to  the  north  and  took  the  breeze 
astern.  The  great  gulf  stream,  pouring  its  warm 
current  out  into  the  Atlantic  through  the  Florida 
Straits,  gave  added  impulse  now,  and  the  fine  ship, 
with  studsails  set,  and  every  inch  of  canvas  draw- 
ing steady  and  true,  sent  a  purling  fleecy  roll  nut 
from  each  side  of  her  cut  water.  She  was  steady 
as  a  rock,  standing  straight  up,  as  she  ran  before 
the  wind.  The  blue  sea  was  smooth  as  a  mill 
pond's  unruffled  breast. 

In  the  shadow  of  the  great  foresail  Flan 
squatted  on  the  deck.  Before  him  on  a  low  bench 
sat  P  ather  Revllle,  his  arms  folded. 

"Black  Robe  wears  the  totem  of  Manitu,"  said 
the  young  warrior,  pointing  to  the  ebony  crucifix 
in  the  priest's  belt. 

"Yes,  my  son,"  the  Jesuit  replied,  "Black  Robe 


226        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


wears  the  sign  of  the  eternal  God.  God  is  his 
father,  God  is  the  father  of  Rushing  Water." 

"Then  ,"  the  young  man  smiled — "the  red 

man  is  brother  to  the  white?" 

"All  men  who  live  are  brothers,"  said  the  priest. 
"All  are  sons  of  God.  And  he  loves  them  with 
a  love  beyond  the  love  of  an  earthly  father." 

"Each  one?"  the  brave  asked  eagerly.  "Surely 
it  is  a  thing  that  cannot  be — men  are  so  many; 
who  can  count  them?" 

"God  is  so  great,  he  can  count  them,"  the 
prie«t  answered.  "See  you,  this  rounded  ocean  I 
He  set  it  in  the  hollows  of  the  world,  planning 
each  huge  wave,  each  tiny  ripple.  First  he  made 
the  world  on  which  it  floats,  designing  the  moun- 
tains and  the  rivers,  the  trees  and  each  leaf 
thereon.  And  all  the  living  things  he  made,  and 
more,  that  huge  sun  rolling  there,  an  everlasting 
torch  to  give  us  light,  and  each  clear  white  star 
that  Rushing  Water  sees  at  night,  itself  a  distant 
world  or  a  distant  sun,  he  made  all  these.  But, 
greater  marvel  still,  he  made  you,  the  spirit  in 
you  that  sees  and  knows.  Does  my  son  under- 
stand? There  is  something  in  yi  body  that  has 
wings,  swifter  than  the  wings  of  the  eagle,  it  is 
called  thought.  Let  me  speak  of  the  great  lakes 
in  the  north  and  the  thought  of  Rushing  Water  is 
there.   Let  me  talk  of  the  star,  Ishtar  the  guide, 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  227 


that  dwells  in  the  north  sky,  and  the  thought  of 
Rushing  Water  is  there.  Does  my  son  under- 
stand?" 

The  young  man  nodded. 

"God  made  that — the  thought  that  is  winged," 
said  the  priest.  "More,  he  made,  the  voice  in 
Rushing  Water's  heart  that  says  to  him,  This 
thing  is  right,'  and  This  thing  is  wrong.'  'This 
thing  is  true,'  and  This  thing  is  not  true.'  No 
tree  has  that,  no  beast,  no  ocean  vast,  nor  huge 
blazing  sun,  only  man,  who  Is  in  the  universe  a 
mite  like  the  bubble  on  the  sea,  only  he  has  that 
knowledge  of  right  and  wrong — it  is  the  soul  in 
him,  breathed  into  his  body  by  the  creator  of  all, 
and  impressed  with  the  likeness  of  God." 

"  'Tis  a  thought  that  is  big,"  Rushing  Water 
commented,  "like  this  great  water,  like  the  catar- 
act that  foams  over  Niagara's  rocky  brown,  like 
the  sky,  like  the  thunder  of  Manitu  crashing  when 
the  clouds  take  fire." 

"  Tis  truth,"  said  Father  Reville.  "No  mere 
thought  in  the  mind  of  man,  but  the  true  thing, 
made  by  God.  Now  let  my  son  listen !  This  (Jod, 
with  a  heart  so  deep  and  wide  that  even  the  winged 
thought  of  man  can  never  measure  it,  has  he  not 
the  power  to  love  each  man,  though  they  be  as 
the  forest  leaves  in  number?  This  God,  in  whose 
mind  the  universe  is  but  as  an  island  in  the  sea, 


228         THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


cannot  he  know  each  of  his  children?  What 

father  forgets  the  creature  to  whom  he  gave 
breath?  Th  "  shall  not  God  love  each  of  his 
creatures  e.C'  lorc,  to  whom  he  has  given  not 
the  breath  that  passes,  but  the  spirit  that  lives  for- 
ever?" 

"And  did  God  give  his  totem  to  the  white  peo- 
ple?" Rushing  Water  asked. 

"To  all — white,  black,  yellow,  red,  for  the  color 
of  man^s  skin  varies,  but  the  color  of  his  soul 
varies  not." 

"But  the  white  people,  they  know  God,  Black 
Robe." 

The  old  priest  shook  a  sorrowful  head.  The 
answer  forming  on  his  Hps  was  not  uttered,  for 

a  sudden  interruption  called  the  young  warrior 
from  his  side.  It  was  some  days  thereafter  before 
the  conversation  was  resumed. 

One  day  with  a  change  in  the  watch  Elan  left 
his  white  companions,  among  whom  he  had  ceased 
to  be  an  object  of  friendly  curiosity  and  become 
the  recipient  of  undisguised  respect,  and  strolled 
along  the  deck  toward  the  favorite  seat  of  the 
Jesuit  in  the  shadow  of  the  foresail.  The  latter 
was  reading  aloud  from  his  breviary,  but  in  a  low 
and  richly  cultured  voice,  and  as  the  musical 
phrases  caught  the  Indian's  equally  musical  ear, 
the  latter  paused  and  listened  with  evident  de- 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


light.  On  the  cadence  and  rhythm  of  those  ancient 
petitions,  his  soul  might  seem  to  be  wafted  back 
to  its  forest  home.  The  cchoinp;  laup;httT  of 
brooklets,  the  triumphant  tread  of  torrents,  the 
soothing  alternations  of  the  midnight  storm,  the 
deep  and  thrilling  stir  of  dawn — these  and  a  hun- 
dred more  of  their  kind,  would  seem  to  have  filled 
his  soul  with  their  sweet  obsession.  L(n)kiiijr  Into 
his  far-away  eyes  one  might  have  saiil  that  I  .Ian 
d'  Fau  was  homesick;  but  looking  more  deeply 
still  one  might  need  to  revise  his  opinion  and  be- 
lieve that  the  spirit  of  prophecy  had  waved  her 
enchanting  wand  over  his  awakening  soul. 

Though  his  step  had  been  noiseless,  and  though 
no  word  had  as  yet  been  spoken,  the  priest  soon 
became  conscious  of  the  Indian's  presence,  and 
looking  up  from  his  prayer  book  exclaimed: 

"What  brings  you  here,  my  son?" 

It  was  one  of  those  questions  which  answer 
themselves  by  the  tone  in  which  they  are  uttered. 

"I  am  come.  Black  Robe,  because  it  warms  the 
current  of  my  life  to  be  where  you  are.  In  the 
heart  of  Flan  d'  Fau  your  friendship  has  awak- 
ened many  echoes,  such  echoes  as  he  has  heard 
awakened  in  the  heart  of  the  woods  by  the  voice 
of  the  song  thrush  when  the  shadows  have  length- 
ened on  the  hills.  It  is  a  friendship  such  as  the 
heart  of  a  lonely  traveler  fears  not  to  trust.   It  is 


230 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


a  friendship  that  can  stand  the  test  of  silent  com- 
munion; as  the  forest  lake  is  most  licaiitiful  in  its 
calm.    Your  words  have  been  to  me  like  the  music 
of  rivulets;  but  your  silent  thoughts  have  blessed 
me  as  the  tent  of  heaven.    I  have  seen  them  in 
your  eyes,  and  they  shone  like  the  stars  at  mid- 
night !  1  know  that  Black  Robe  desires  to  lead  the 
feet  of  Rushing  Water  into  a  new  trail — a  trail 
with  which  the  feet  of  Bhick  Robe  have  long  been 
familiar.   But  he  must  know  that  the  Indian  mind 
loves  its  own  way  of  thinking,  and  changes  slowly. 
It  must  have  firmly  in  its  grasp  the  treasure  of 
the  new,  before  it  will  part  with  the  treasure  of 
the  old.    Old  garments,  though  they  be  many 
times  patched,  are  better  than  no  garments  when 
winter  comes  with  its  breath  of  ice.    Old  hunting 
grounds,  though  they  be  sorely  consumed,  are 
better  for  hope  than  the  sterile  sands  of  the  desert. 
Old  wigwams  must  not  be  burned,  till  the  new 
ones  are  built.    So  teaches  the  Indian  wisdom. 
Your  friendship  has  been  precious;  your  words 
have  been  sweet  and  comforting;  your  spirit  talk 
seems  wise.    But  Black  Robe  must  not  be  angry 
with  a  poor  untutored  child  of  the  forest,  if  he 
has  many  questions  to  ask  before  his  feet  can 
confidently  enter  the  new  trail  which  Black  Robe 
would  set  for  him." 

"Do  you  think  that  I  have  been  unmindful  of 


Tin:  CRYSTAL  ROOD  231 


the  things  you  s^Jcak  of,  my  son?"  as'  '  I  the  nriost. 

"No.  no,"  answered  the  younjj;  "the  pa- 

tience of  Bhuk  Rohe  has  been  as  the  ;)uiicnce  of 
a  sijuaw  for  the  child  of  her  chief." 

"Then  what  is  the  first  question  you  would 
ask,  my  son?" 

"Black  Robe  will  not  be  angry?" 

"Why  does  my  son  mistrust  me  ?" 

Leaning  forward  the  yoimt!;  Indian  took  in  his 
own  hand  the  crucilix  that  hung  at  the  ginile  ot  the 
priest,  and  looking  into  the  eyes  ot  the  latter  with 
a  deep  and  wistful  ga/c,  he  asked: 

"If  Black  Robe  will  not  be  angry,  what  means 
this  totem?" 

There  was  something  in  the  tone  of  the  inquiry 
that  saved  the  wise  priest  from  too  great  an  exul- 
tation ;  something  that  betokened,  not  a  mere  curi- 
osity, but  a  personal  interest,  ijuite  indepemlent 
of  any  specifically  religious  intention.  Looking 
frankly  into  the  wondering  eyes  of  the  young  brave 
he  replied: 

"Totem,  you  have  not  unwisely  called  it,  my 
son.    It  stands  for  a  family  bond;  but  it  has  a 

depth  of  meaning  far  surpassing  that  of  any  simi- 
lar token  with  which  you  have  been  familiar.  It  is 
the  totem  of  a  world-wide  broth,  i  hofxl :  and  it 
represents  the  love  and  sacrifice  which  alone  were 


232        TJtlE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


capable  of  making  that  brotherhood  a  real  fact 
upon  the  earth." 

"But  the  warrior  whose  image  is  so  beautifully 
wrought  out — ^who  was  he?"  asked  the  young 
man,  with  face  as  placid  as  a  mountain  lake, 
though  the  discerning  ear  of  the  priest  seemed  to 
catch  the  echoes  of  an  inner  excitement  that  was 
struggling  to  break  the  barriers  of  its  restraint. 

"Ah,  my  son,  he  was  the  Great  Warrior — the 
one  in  whose  presence  all  others  must  hang  their 
heads  in  silence  and  humility,  and  many  in  sorrow 
and  shame.  Does  my  son  desire  to  know  the 
story?" 

'I  he  young  man  bowed  his  assent,  but  also  re- 
plied: 

"If  it  please  Black  Robe  to  grant  this  favor, 
Rushing  Water  will  be  grateful  and  happy." 

A  sudden  interruption  caused  both  the  priest 
and  the  warrior  to  glance  at  the  quarter  deck.  M. 
Matisse  was  descending  the  companlonway  into 
the  waist,  his  trumpet  in  his  hand.  He  had  just 
boomed  out  an  order  to  shorten  sail.  Elan  d'  Eau 
turned  on  a  quick  heel. 

"I  am  needed  aft,  Father,"  he  said.  "Tomor- 
row let  it  be,  if  the  time  suits." 

"Tomorrow  let  it  be,  my  son,"  answered  the 
priest. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 


THE  ANSWER 

At  the  appointed  time  Rushing  Water  was  in 
his  place;  but  not  too  early  to  be  welcomed  by 
Father  Reville,  with  whom  punctuality  was  a  law 
of  well-nigh  sufficient  importance  to  warrant  its 
addition  to  the  Decalogue.  The  young  man,  true 
to  the  role  he  had  voluntarily  assumed,  started  to 
place  himself  at  the  feet  of  the  priest,  when  the 
latter  with  more  of  agitation  than  he  was  wont 
to  betray,  exclaimed: 

"Nay,  my  son,  not  there;  but  here  at  my  side, 
on  the  Vid  of  this  locker,  where  one  man  may  look 
into  the  eyes  of  another,  not  upward  nor  down- 
ward, but  on  a  level  plane.  Together  we  shall 
sit, — you,  the  red  warrior,  and  I  the  white  priest, 
— humble  in  mind  and  heart  before  the  thought 
of  the  high  priesthood  of  one  concerning  whom 
we  have  met  to  inquire:  for  he  was  both  priest 
and  warrior." 

Rushing  Water  seemed  well  pleased  with  this 

233 


234        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


remark  and  with  true  nobility  of  mien  took  his 
seat  beside  the  Jesuit. 

"Many,  many  years  ago,"  said  the  latter,  "and 
far  to  the  eastward  of  that  land  toward  which 
we  are  sailing,  in  a  village  called  Bethlehem,  was 
born  the  mighty  wurrior  whose  totem  I  wear.  By 
command  of  the  Great  Spirit  his  parents  named 
the  child  Jesus,  which,  in  the  language  of  that  land 
and  people  meant  Saviour,  or  Deliverer.  He  came 
to  deliver  his  people  not  from  the  rule  of  a  mighty 
nation  that  had  conquered  them  and  was  holding 
them  in  the  chains  of  its  servitude;  but  he  came 
to  deliver  them  and  all  mankind  from  the  bond- 
age  of  their  sins.  For  it  was  as  true  then  as  it 
is  now  that  a  man's  most  dangerous  and  cruel  foes 
are  those  which  lurk  in  the  shadows  of  his  own 
erring  heart,  and  that  wait  there  to  lure  him  into 
their  deadly  ambush.  And  it  was  as  true  then  as 
it  is  today  that  no  one  is  so  pitiably  enslaved  as  he 
who  remains  subject  to  his  own  follies  and  fears." 

The  young  man  nodded  assent,  thereby  showing 
both  that  he  understood  in  some  measure,  at  least 
the  meaning  of  what  had  been  said,  and  that  he 
agreed  to  it. 

"The  night  that  he  was  born,"  resumed  the 
priest,  "the  stars  of  heaven  shone  with  a  peculiar 
brightness.  And  ere  he  was  laid  for  the  first  time 
on  his  fond  mother's  breast,  a  throng  of  heavenly 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


spirits  filled  the  sky  with  a  flood  of  light  and 
song.  This,  my  son,  was  the  song  they  sang  over 
the  birthplace  of  the  Great  Papoose: 

"  'Glory  be  to  the  Great  Spirit  who  rules  on 
high;  and  between  all  his  children  on  earth  may 
there  come  peace  and  a  feeling  of  brotherhood.' 

"The  Papoose  grew  up  like  Ocher  children;  but 
when  he  came  to  be  twelve  years  of  age,  he  re- 
vealed, as  the  day  dawns  in  a  cloudless  sky,  that 
he  was  different  from  others;  that  he  was  held  by 
some  stronger  tie  to  the  Great  Spirit;  that  the 
Great  Spirit  had  sent  him  to  be  the  head  warrior 
and  medicine  man  of  all  tribes.  When  at  last  this 
child  became  a  man  the  truth  burst  ^ally  from 
him  that  he  was  the  Great  Spirit's  own  son.  Then 
it  was  that  he  went  forth  in  the  pathway  of  con- 
quest, without  either  bow,  or  arrows,  or  shield,  or 
spear,  in  his  mighty  hand;  and  without  malice, 
or  envy,  or  jealousy,  or  vengeance  in  his  heart. 
The  flowers  of  the  field  knew  him  and  revealed  to 
his  soul  their  inmost  beauty;  the  birds  of  the  air 
knew  him  and  sang  their  sweetest  chorus  into  his 
listening  ear;  the  children  of  the  street  knew  him 
and  cheered  his  soul  with  their  laughter;  good 
women  saw  him  and  loved  him,  because  he  was 
ever  more  tender  than  themselves;  strong  men 
followed  him  and  loved  him,  because  he  was 
stronger  than  they.  And  these  are  but  a  portion 


236        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


of  the  beautiful  things  that  may  be  said  of  his 
life.  But  wicked  men  also  knew  him,  and  because 
they  did  not  desire  to  forsake  their  wickedness, 
and  because  his  teachings  taught  the  world  such 
ways  as  would  shame  their  practices,  they  hated 
him  and  sought  his  destruction. 

"But  he  kept  to  the  trail  that  his  Father  had 
set  for  him,  fighting  ci  uelty  with  kindness,  hatred 
with  love,  and  the  sins  of  mankind  with  the  sor- 
rows of  heaven. 

"Finally,  they  plotted  against  him,  these  wicked 
ones  who  had  rejected  him,  and  prepared  to  put 
him  to  death.  So  they  made  what  we  call  a  cross; 
and  on  that  they  slew  him." 

Here  the  priest  lifted  his  own  shining  crucifix 
and  with  his  forefinger  traced  the  image  of  the 
cross. 

"They  made  his  cross  of  heavy  pieces  of  wood, 
and  compelled  him  to  carry  it  from  the  place  of 
their  false  pow-wow  toward  the  place  of  his  death ; 
he  fell  to  the  ground  beneath  its  weight;  it  was 
laid  on  the  shoulders  of  a  passing  friend,  and 
he  was  scourged  to  the  scene  of  his  torture;  there 
they  bound  him  to  the  cross,  and  to  it  they  nailed 
him — a  spike  through  each  hand,  as  you  see  by 
the  totem,  and  a  spike  through  his  feet!  There 
ihe  Great  Warrior  hung,  when  the  cross  was 
placed  upright,  suffering  untold  agony  during  six 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


long  hours,  while  his  own  fond  mother  looked 
on  with  unspeakable  anguish  and  the  cruel  crowd 
made  sport  of  his  dying.  On  his  beautiful  brow 
had  been  placed  a  crown  of  thorns  as  a  symbol  of 
mockery.  And  in  return  for  all  this  deepening 
cruelty  the  Great  Warrior  uttered  not  one  word  of 
bitterness  or  anger;  but  looking  straight  toward 
heaven,  he  cried:  'Father,  forgive  them;  they 
know  not  what  they  do!'  Then  he  died;  and 
while  the  earth  was  yet  trembling  from  the  shock 
of  his  death,  the  crowd  began  to  awake  and  be- 
hold the  meaning  of  their  cruel  deeds.  One  of 
them,  himself  a  warrior,  cried:  'Surely  this  man 
was  the  Son  of  Manitul' 

"My  child,  that  death  was  a  victory.  It  opened 
to  the  gaze  of  a  hungry  world  the  fathomless 
depths  of  the  Great  Father's  love;  and  it  has 
done  more  than  all  things  beside  to  make  the 
world  happy  in  the  practices  of  love  and  peace. 
The  flowers  of  human  !;appiness  cannot  find  their 
richest  bloom  in  the  icy  breath  of  vengeance  and 
strife.  Men  arc  not  animals  made  to  bite  and 
tear  and  devour  each  other;  men  are  brothers, 
each  to  each — and  all  to  all,  despite  the  differ- 
ences of  their  customs  or  the  varying  colors  of 
their  skin.  AH  are  the  offspring  of  one  eternal 
and  almighty  Father.  The  cup  of  human  happi- 
ness will  never  be  filled  until  the  whole  world 


238         THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


has  come  to  know  this  wonderful  but  simple 
truth.  But  he  who  would  wear  the  totem  of  this 
great  brotherhood,  and  wear  it  sincerely,  must  be 
ready  to  follow  the  Great  Sachem  in  the  trail 
that  led  him  to  the  cross  I 

"But  think  you,  my  child,  that  death  was  the 
end  of  that  warrior?  They  gave  his  mangled 
body  to  his  friends,  who  placed  it,  all  covered 
with  spices,  in  a  rock-hewn  grave.  But  think 
you  tSat  the  grave  could  hold  such  as  he?  No, 
he  burst  asunder  the  bonds  of  death,  as  you 
have  seen  your  own  companions  break  the  withes 
with  which  they  were  bound  to  make  sport  for 
their  fellows.  He  rose  from  the  sleep  of  death; 
and  he  proved  to  the  hungry  hopes  of  men  that 
what  you  call  The  Happy  Hunting  Ground,  and 
what  we  white  brothers  call  Heaven  is  a  blessed 
reality.  He  proved  that  the  trail  of  life  has  no 
end!" 

The  priest  paused,  and  to  his  astonishment 
saw  the  young  Indian  draw  from  beneath  an  in- 
ner garment  a  crucifix,  the  very  counterpart  of 
that  which  hung  from  his  own  waist,  save  that 
it  had  been  carved  and  cut  from  a  piece  of  purest 
crystal.  It  was  a  beautiful  specimen  both  of  na- 
ture and  of  art,  and  it  was  held  for  a  moment 
where  its  angles  caught  the  soft  rays  of  a  declin- 
ing sun;  it  flashed  with  a  light  that  seemed  super- 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  239 

nal.  Rushing  Water,  his  eyes  gleaming  with 
wonderment,  laid  this  flashing  symbol  in  the  lap 
of  the  priest  and  almost  breathlessly  inquired: 

'•Does  it  mean,  Black  Robe,  that  this  totem 
marks  me  out  as  a  warrior  kindred  to  him  whom 
they  slew  upon  the  cross?" 

For  a  long  while  the  Jesuit  sat  speechless,  ex- 
amining the  shining  crucifix.  The  beautiful  clarity 
of  the  crystal  and  the  cunning  carving  of  the 
figure  of  The  Crucified,  excited  his  admiration. 
One  touch  o(  color  only  he  saw — a  reddish- 
brown  stain  running  through  the  feet  of  the  Sav- 
iour and  the  upright  of  the  cross.  He  thought 
at  first  that  this  stain  was  due  to  design  but  as 
he  examined  the  spot  more  closely  he  saw  that  the 
carved  head  of  the  nail  was  not  set  in  the  stain  but 
a  little  to  one  side.  The  st.iin  was  a  streak  of 
iron  which  had  somehow  been  involved  in  the 
stalactite  process  from  which  the  jewel  had  been 
cut.   At  last  the  priest  looked  up. 

"It  means,  my  son,"  said  the  faithful  priest, 
"that  we  have  here  the  suggestion  of  a  path  which 
I  have  not  the  wisdom  to  discover.  Some  one 
who  knew  you  better  than  you  know  yourself,  were 
that  one  of  us,  could  answer  your  question  in  a 
way  that  might  surprise  and  please  us  both.  Do 
not  part  with  this  beautiful  totem,  my  son;  its 
presence  will  ever  tend  to  draw  you  nearer  to  him 


240        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


who  died  to  make  you  his  self-acknowledged 
brother;  and  it  may  hide  in  its  luminous  depths  a 
secret  that  links  you  to  a  nobler  past  than  that 
of  which  you  know  or  dream.  God's  peace  be 
with  you,  my  son  I" 


CHAPTER  XXV 


THE  STORM 

So  far  the  voyage  had  prospered.  Except  for 
the  head  winds  encountered  in  the  Gulf,  the  gale 
had  favored  the  progress  of  the  Juliette  and  she 
had  averaged  six  knots  on  her  way  across  the  At- 
lantic. They  had  crossed  the  fortieth  parallel 
and  the  seamen  were  already  anticipating  the 
joys  of  shore-leave  in  their  native  land,  when 
the  breeze,  which  had  steadily  driven  them  for- 
ward for  many  days,  lost  its  vigor.  Instead  of 
the  firm,  continuous  thrust,  short  gusty  pushes 
filled  out  the  canvas,  which  between  times  hung 
limp  on  the  yard  arms.  Unwilling  to  sustain  the 
unnecessary  loss  of  an  hour,  Captain  Halevy 
spread  more  canvas  as  the  breeze  slackened.  The 
studsail  yards  were  run  out  and  made  fast,  and 
the  great  wings  stretched  to  catch  every  ounce  of 
wind.  This  helped  a  little,  but  despite  it  the  speed 
of  the  vessel  diminished.  The  breeze  died,  with 
a  few  quivering  gasps.  The  water  lay  under  the 
vivid  blue  of  the  sky,  with  a  silken  smoothness. 

241 


242        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


The  great  ship  was  motionless — she  had  left  the 
Gulf  Stream  far  to  the  westward,  and  no  longer 
felt  its  impulse  on  her  keel.  The  white  sails  hung 

limp  on  the  yards.  Captain  Halcvy,  glancing 
aloft  from  the  quarter  deck  to  the  flagstaff  re- 
marked with  a  grim  smile  to  Father  Reville,  as 
he  pointed  to  the  sad  rumple  of  the  flag  of  France. 

"A  Dutchman's  hurricane,  Father — up  and 
down  the  mast." 

I*  'Tis  wonderfully  calm,"  the  priest  replied. 

"But  not  likely  to  be  calm  long,"  said  the  cap- 
tam,  whose  glance  was  sweeping  the  horizon.  "M. 
Matisse,  my  glass,  if  you  please  1"  he  shouted  to 
his  first  oflicer. 

The  sailor  leaped  down  a  hatch  to  the  cabin, 
returning  with  a  telescope.  Resting  it  on  a  life- 
boat aswing  on  the  davits,  the  captain  surveyed 
the  eastern  sky. 

*'Ha!"  he  exclaimed,  "I  thought  as  much.  M. 
Matisse,  we  shall  take  in  sail,  studsails  first." 

Father  Reville,  looking  to  the  east,  noted  an 
obliteration  of  the  horizon.  He  turned  a  ques- 
tioning glance  on  the  captain. 

"It  looks  bad.  Father,"  said  the  captain,  an- 
swering his  unuttered  question.  "We  have  lots  of 
sea  room,  however,  although  I  hate  to  run  back." 

Even  as  they  looked,  the  haze  in  the  east  deep- 
ened into  a  thick  gloom,  and  with  incredible  speed 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


tumbling  black  clouds  came  sweeping  across  the 
blue  heavens.  The  air  was  silent,  tense,  oppres- 
sive. The  sea  lost  its  blue  brightness  and  took 
on  an  aspect  of  green,  gray  terror,  broken  afar 
off  by  bursts  of  white  spume.  Captain  Halevy, 
with  a  sigh,  prepared  to  strip  his  ship  of  canvas. 

•'Down  to  the  bare  poles.  We  shall  have  to 
run  for  it,  Monsieur  Matisse,"  he  said. 

Matisse  seized  the  speaking  trumpet. 

"Stand  by  to  furl  the  topsail !"  he  shouted,  his 
voice  sounding  unnaturally  loud  in  the  deep  si- 
lence. 

Instantly  the  topsail  yards  were  manned,  and 

Father  Reville,  looking  up,  saw  the  dark  figure 
of  Rushing  Water  outlined  against  the  sky  at  the 
topmast  head.  Wiu.  a  little  thrill  of  admiration, 
he  noted  the  grace  of  the  pose  and  the  perfect 
self-confidence  that  kept  the  man  secure  on  his 
perilous  perch.  Again  Matisse's  voice  rang  out. 
"Down-haul,  all!" 

There  was  a  rattle  as  the  down-haul  creaked 
and  the  sail  was  furled  against  its  spar.  His  trum- 
pet in  his  hands,  Matisse  was  now  snapping  out 
swift,  whip-like  commands,  under  whose  impulse 
the  men  scrambled  up  the  shrouds  and  manned 
the  main  yards.  At  last  the  great  lower  sails 
were  furled  and  lashed  to  their  yards,  and  the 
ship,  stripped  like  a  gladiator  for  conflict,  await- 


THL  CRVS  I AL  ROOD 


ed  the  onrushing  storm.  As  tbcy  watched  it  from 

the  quarter  di.k,  it  seemed  f  st  and  sky  were 
one,  the  douils  descending  and  the  si  i  '  ising,  to 
form  a  vast  black,  mass  bearing  down  upon  them 
in  its  fury.  With  a  sudden  roar  it  was  upon 
them. 

Captain  Halevy,  gripping  the  taffrai!  and  lean- 
ing forward,  alert,  sensed  the  instant  >'f  impact, 
and  sharp  through  the  shriek  of  the  gale,  rang 
out  his  hi^h  command: 

"Hard  a-lee!" 

As  the  helm  bore  across  the  deck  and  the  ves- 
sel, gathering  life  from  the  impact  of  the  hurri- 
cane, obeyed  the  rudder's  direction  and  swung  on 
Irt  heel  to  spring  forth  like  a  race-horse  before 

the  driving  wind,  a  jrreat  sea  rose  astern,  seemed 
to  pause,  a  hup;e  impending,  green  ^ray  thing  of 
terror,  then  broke  in  a  fury  of  sno^v-white  foam, 
and  crashed  d'»wn  upon  the  vessel     Under  the 
blow  the  Juliette  quivered  like  a  li  ing  thing,  and 
as  the  smother  of  foam  streamed  r.  er  her.  stag 
gered  like  a  m.     with  i-  brokt    hack     i  lalev\ 
who  had  joined  the  two  seanu         the  -lelm 
held  his  hreatii  f  >r  a  minut<         1  as  ship 
steadied  and  rose  on  the  next    well  her 
buoyance,  he  breathed  a  sigh    f  rel  ^* 
trumpet  was  at  his  lips  and  his    oice  r  m  H*t 
again. 


fHE  eRV:    U       or  245 


"M-  Mstissc!'  e  ca''  J,  report  t  mc  at 
o  i.e  wh«tht-r  anyt>n    wa?.   arricd  away  1" 

"Aye.  lyi  sir'  came  the  officer's  answer,  faint 
in  tin  r(  ar  of  t  jc  elements. 

Wit  in  a  tew  minutes  his  dripping  form  stooi^ 
ar  i  '  'k  v  v's  Si 

man  ^      ux  had  his  leg  broken  and  h. 
been  carr  d  Uc!  »w/'  he  reported.  *'Otherwi«t 
all  hands:  e  accoun    I  for.  The  forecastle  hatch 
was  smashed  m,  but  no  further  damage  seems  to 
be  d'  ne.'' 

"^  c  art  not  taking  water?"  asked  the  cap- 

lin. 

Not  a  dr  p,  sir,"  the  officer  answered  cheer- 
fully. 

"'Tw  close  squeak,"  said  Ilalevy  grimly, 
•'but  I  think  we'll  weather  it  now." 

The  gloom  was  Mtense.  Halcvy  leaned  t<)r- 
ward.  straining  his  eyes,  but  could  see  notlimg 
ahead  but  the  black  ruck  of  the  stonn  and  the 
white  crests  of  the  towering  waves,  which  now 
thrust  them  high  and  now  buried  them  deep  in 
the  trough  of  the  waters.  They  were  traveling 
at  a  fearful  speed.  Thunder  crashes,  peal  on 
peal,  furnished  profound  subtoncs  for  the  high 
pandemoniac  scream  of  the  winds  in  the  rigging. 
Sharp,  blazing  shafts  of  lightning  tore  raggedly 
through  the  clouds  and  gave  brief  ami  weird  illu- 


246        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


mination  to  the  violent  desolation  in  which  they 
blindly  careered.  Looking  forward  in  one  of 
these  sudden  bursts  of  unearthly  light,  Halevy  saw 
a  strange  figure  outlined  against  the  gloom. 

Father  Reville  clinging  with  one  hand  to  the 
glistening  forestay,  his  face  uplifted  and  his  hair 
startlingly  white  in  the  lightning's  ghasriy  il- 
lume, stood  at  the  very  prow  of  the  boat.  His 
black  gown  against  the  darkness  of  the  storm 
made  his  body  almost  invisible,  but  the  face  with 
its  crown  of  white  glory  and  the  hand  clutching 
the  cordage,  stood  out  in  sharp  definition.  Halevy 
heard  an  exclamation  in  the  guttural  Indian  tongue 
at  his  side.  The  priest  had  taken  his  hand  from 
the  stay  and  both  hands  were  now  clasped  before 
him.  There  was  a  sudden  fierce  and  furious  gust 
and  the  two  hands  and  white  face  seemed  lifted 
into  the  air. 

All  this  occurred  in  an  instant;  the  lightning 
glare  vanished,  and  the  blackness  of  the  storm 
enshrouded  all.  Looking  around,  the  captain  saw 
the  gloom  thicken  at  his  side,  and  a  dark  bulk 
arose  from  the  rail  and  disappeared.  Matisse's 
voice  came  faintly  to  his  ears,  sounding  the  dread 
cry: 

"Man  overboard  I" 

The  captain  gritted  his  teeth,  full  of  wild  rage 
at  his  own  helplessness.    The  storm  drove  hun 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


247 


■ 


on  and  on.  Twice,  with  the  full  knowledge  in  his 
heart  of  the  utter  impossibility  of  it,  he  tried  to 
bring  his  vessel  around,  only  to  be  beaten  back 
each  time  hy  the  staggering  buffets  of  the  huge 
seas  and  the  irresistible  thrust  of  the  driving  wind. 
At  the  first  signal  he  had  ordered  everything 
buoyant  cast  adrift,  and  ready  hands  flung  over 
the  side  in  a  frantic  hope  that  they  might  be  of 
help  to  the  unfortunate,  life  boats,  buoys,  hatch 
covers — whatever  came  to  hand  that  might  sustain 
a  human  body  on  the  face  of  the  water.  Halevy 
still  clinging  with  his  seamen  to  the  thrashing 
helm,  still  striving  to  pierce  the  wild  gloom  ahead, 
murmured  under  his  breath  the  prayer  for  the 
dying. 

The  tempest  passed  as  suddenly  as  it  came.  A 
wan  li^t  shone  astern,  the  blackness  ahead  be- 
came gray.  There  was  a  final  terrific  shrieking 
rush  of  mighty  winds,  then  a  quavering  wail,  then 
silence.  The  gray  wreck  tore  on,  the  last  clouds 
hung  like  stragglers  in  the  sky,  the  sunlight  burst 
again  upon  the  troubled  sea.  For  half  an  hour 
there  was  a  dead  calm,  then  a  light  breeze  sprang 
up,  coming  out  of  the  north.  Instantly  Captain 
Halevy  ordered  every  stitch  of  canvas  spread  to 
the  breeze  and  turning  on  his  heel,  he  retraced  his 
course  over  the  waters.    Hour  after  hour  they 


in 
I '. 

!  i 

iil : 


248         THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


sailed,  a  lookout  at  each  masthead  searching  the 

sea  for  the  lost  ones. 

The  night  came  on,  beautiful,  clear,  brilliant 
with  starlight.  All  through  the  dark  hours  the 
voice  of  the  lookout  called  forth  over  the  sea,  and 
the  Juliette  gleamed  with  lanterns  hung  astern  and 
astern.  There  was  no  answering  voice  coming  to 
them  out  of  the  night.  The  stars  paled  and  the 
dawn  came,  and  with  its  first  gleam  the  lookout's 
voice  sounded  dismally  from  the  clouds  of  canva^ 
aloft,  as  he  announced  the  tidings  that  nothing  wa^ 
visible  on  the  face  of  the  waters.  When  noon 
came  and  the  sorrowing  little  company  seemed  all 
alone  on  the  vast  reaches  of  the  sea,  the  captain 
gave  up  hope. 

"Ah,  M.  Matisse,"  he  said  to  his  first  officer, 
•'those  were  two  brave  spirits  that  have  passed 
Into  eternity.  Call  all  hands  on  deck.  We  are 
Christian  people,  and  if  the  priest  has  gone  and 
the  savage  with  him,  we  shall  make  shift  at  least 
to  supplicate  the  good  God  in  their  behalf." 

Soon  a  strange  scene,  which  there  was  no  human 
eye  to  see,  presented  itself  on  the  deck  of  the  groat 
ship.  Save  for  the  two  helmsmen  at  the  tiller  and 
the  lookout  clinging  to  the  topmast  head,  all  the 
ship's  company  were  gathered  on  the  deck.  They 
were  rough  seamen,  many  of  them  with  faces  and 
bare,  brown  hands  covered  with  tattooed  designs, 


THE  CRYSIAL  ROOD  249 


and  some  cf  them  with  gold  earrings  glittering  in 
the  sunlight.  Holding  a  little  prayer  book  in  his 
hand,  the  captain  strode  among  them.  Suddenly 
he  sank  to  his  knees  on  the  deck  and  instantly  the 
sailors  knelt  in  a  circle  around  him.  Then  in  a 
deep  voice  Captain  Halevy  read  the  litany  for 
the  dead,  and  in  deeper  and  rougher  chorus  the 
sailors  gave  responses.  The  water  lapped  the 
ship's  sides,  and  the  breeze  above  them  fresh- 
ened, filling  the  sails,  while  from  simple  hearts, 
grieved  at  the  loss  of  a  revered  priest  and  a  com- 
rade upon  whom  they  had  bestowed  their  unques- 
tioning affection,  rose  the  devout  antiphony. 

"Lord  have  mercy  on  them,"  read  Captain 
Halevy. 

"Christ  have  mercy  on  them,"  the  deep  sea 
voices  answered. 

Suudenly,  from  above  the  billowing  canvas 
w'lcrf  the  lookout  clung  to  the  cross  trees,  there 
came  a  cry.  The  men  hurriedly  touched  with 
their  right  hands  forehead  and  breast,  right  shoul- 
der and  left,  and  rose  to  their  feet,  and  Captain 
Halevy  shouted  up  to  the  lookout: 

"What  is  it  you  see?" 

"  'Tis  only  a  speck,  sir,  dead  ahead,"  said  the 
lookout.  "It  isn't  a  ship,  it  looks  like  a  piece  of 
wreckage." 

In  breathless  suspense  they  waited  while  the 


250         THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


ship  forged  ahead,  and  the  speck  grew  larger  and 
larger  in  the  lookout's  sight. 

**I  make  It  now,  sir,"  he  yelled  down  at  last, 
his  voice  full  of  joy.  "It  is  a  piece  with  two  men 
clinging  to  it." 

Crowding  on  every  inch  of  canvas,  Halevy  hur- 
ried the  pace  of  his  ship  until  she  hore  down  at 
last  on  the  object  which  had  attracted  the  look- 
out's attention.  It  was  a  huge  hatch  cover  which 
had  been  hurled  overboard  during  the  height  of 
the  storm.  With  his  body  stretched  across  it, 
his  legs  hanging  in  the  water,  Father  Reville  lay. 
Beside  him,  one  sinewy  hand  clutching  his  collar, 
sat  Rushing  Water. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 


THE  BATTLE  WITH  DEATH 

That  fierce  dark  onset  of  elemental  anger  found 
the  Jesuit  in  the  waist  of  the  ship.  As  the  gray 
wall  of  water  rose  astern  and  crashed  down  like 
a  sweeping  charge  of  white  cavalry,  he  clutched  a 
taut  stay  and  clung  desperately  to  the  rigid  rope. 
The  onsweep  of  the  sea  dragged  at  him  savagely 
but  he  held  fast,  and  the  hurried  waters  rushed  by. 
Drenched  but  unhurt  he  heard  Captain  Halcvy's 
inquiry  and  Matisse's  report.  Then  he  made  his 
way  forward  in  the  gloom.  The  old  man's  eyes 
were  bright  with  interest.  To  the  mind  that  dwelt 
constantly  on  things  eternal,  this  huge  sweep  of 
things  beyond  human  control  had  a  wild  magnifi- 
cent charm. 

"Yea,  though  I  walk  in  the  valley  of  the  shad- 
ow of  death,  T  shall  fear  no  evil,"  he  murmured, 
smiling  to  himself  with  the  thought  that  there  was 
within  him  a  soul  that  could  ride  unterrified  in  the 
storm,  superior  to  nature  because  supernatural  in 
its  origin,  its  essence,  and  its  destiny.  Making  his 

251 


252         THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


way  forward  along  the  wet,  heaving  deck,  he 
reached  the  short  forecastle  ladder.  Clambering 
up  this,  he  lurched  forward  to  the  peak.  His 
hand  rested  on  the  foremast  stay,  and  he  steadied 
himself  to  watch  the  sublime  spectacle,  the  thun- 
derbolt's swift,  uncertain  flight  through  the  dark, 
the  huge,  onrushing  waves  with  furious  white 
plumes,  ghostly  in  the  murk,  gleaming  in  the  blue- 
white  glare.  A  minute  or  so  he  stood  there,  his 
spirit  filled  with  the  grandeur  of  it.  Involuntarily 
he  took  his  hand  from  the  stay  and  raised  both 
hands  before  him  in  a  gesture  of  adoration.  A 
sword  of  flame  had  shorn  the  tumbling  smoky 
douds,  and  the  deafening  crash  of  its  peal  was 
in  his  ears.  Suddenly  he  was  lifted  up  as  if  in- 
visible hands  had  clutched  him.  and  hurled  into 
the  sea.  He  saw  the  ship's  dark  shape  rush  by, 
saw  it  mount  a  vast  wave  and  drop  from  his 
sight. 

Old  though  he  was,  there  was  strength  in  the 
spare  frame  of  the  priest.  He  realized  his  situa- 
tion, nor  dreamed  of  possible  succor  in  that  wild 
tempest,  but  it  was  his  duty  to  prolong  life  to  the 
utmost,  and  so,  more  from  the  sense  of  obligation 
than  from  any  physical  instinct  of  self-preserva- 
tion, he  did  his  best  to  keep  afloat.  It  was  grim 
business.  Flung  high  one  instant  by  a  breaker, 
sucked  (^p  into  its  fast  following  trough  the  next, 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  253 


his  breath  was  soon  spent.  He  felt  the  water 
close  over  his  head.  He  was  still  conscious  when 
he  came  again  to  the  surface,  and  with  a  final  sum- 
moning of  all  his  remaining  strength  he  threw  up 
his  white  head,  and  his  voice  rang  out: 

"Into  thy  hands,  O  Lord,  I  deliver  my  spirit !" 

The  cry  of  surrender  spent  him  and  the  sea 
surged  again  above  his  nostrils.  But,  as  he  sank 
there  was  a  tremendous  threshing  of  the  waters 
not  far  off,  and  his  white  hair  still  floated  when 
a  sinewy  hand  gripped  his  collar.  As  conscious- 
ness departed,  a  strong  voice  sounded  in  his  ears: 

"I  am  here.  Black  Robe,"  it  said. 

The  faintness  passed  and  recurred  several 
times,  and  with  each  flash  of  consciousness,  the 
feebly  working  mind  of  the  priest  had  an  impres- 
sion of  some  extraneous  power  that  was  keeping 
him  afloat.  At  last  a  sense  of  phy  "al  pain  came 
to  him,  the  feeling  of  contact  with  a  hard  sub- 
stance, of  something  tearing  his  flesh,  and  tugging 
at  his  arms.  With  an  effort  he  rallied  his  facul- 
ties. The  stoiTTi  was  still  raging,  his  opened  eyes 
looked  up  at  a  black  heaven.  He  felt  a  hard  sub- 
stance under  him  and  realized  that  it  was  a  plank. 
A  nail  had  torn  the  flesh  of  his  thigh.  At  the 
edge  of  the  plank  he  saw  Rushing  Water's  head, 
and  he  became  conscious  that  the  warrior  was 
clutching  his  robe  with  one  hand,  while  he  gripped 


254        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


the  edge  of  the  plank  with  the  other.  Leaning 
his  body  forward  the  young  man  tested  the  buoy- 
ancy  of  their  support.  When  satisfied  he  clam- 
bered up  on  it,  seating  himself  beside  the  body  of 
the  priest.  What  they  rested  on  was  a  great  hatch 
cover,  one  of  the  many  articles  thrown  over  side 
at  Halevy's  command. 

The  storm  passed  at  last,  but  the  wild  heaving 
of  the  sea  made  it  a  matter  of  some  difficulty  to 
keep  the  priest  from  slipping  into  the  waves. 
Rushing  Water  sat,  his  eyes  searching  the  empty 
ocean,  one  hand  hooked  in  the  collar  of  the  Jesuit's 
robe,  the  other  gripping  the  plank.  The  evening 
came  and  night  shut  down  upon  *hem.  The  sea 
grew  calmer.  Far  above  them  the  cold  stars 
shone.  The  lassitude  following  his  struggle  had 
kept  the  priest  silent,  but  when  the  night  came  he 
spoke. 

"How  came  my  son  to  be  in  the  sea  ?"  he  asked. 

"Rushing  Water  is  a  strong  swimmer,"  the 
young  man  answered  dimply.  "From  his  boyhood 
he  has  been  such.  When  the  wind  swept  the 
Father  from  the  bow,  the  warrior  leaped  over  the 
rail  astern.   He  hoped  he  might  find  his  friend." 

Father  Reville's  eyes  opened  wide  in  wonder. 

"But  the  storm  was  at  its  height.  You  might 
have  lost,  indeed  you  still  may  lose  your  life." 

"Did  not  the  Father  tell  me,"  asked  the  young 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


255 


man,  "that  in  the  great  brotherhood  of  the  fol- 
lowers of  the  Christ,  if  a  man  would  save  his  life 
he  must  first  lose  it?  A  sagamore  said  that,  did 
he  not?" 

"Truel"  replied  the  priest.  "My  son  is  quick 
to  grasp.  But  we  are  likely  to  find  life  soon,  the 
eternal  life,"  he  addid.  "My  son  has  no 
fear?" 

The  eyes  that  gazed  down  at  him  answered  the 
question.  With  a  satisfied  smile,  the  priest  closed 
his  eyes.  W^eariness  overcame  him  and  he  slept. 
The  sun  was  bursting  red  above  the  rim  of  the  sea 
when  he  awoke.  It  lighted  a  vast  and  lonely 
ocean.  The  priest  gazed  at  his  companion,  who 
sat  rigid,  his  jaw  set,  and  the  fierce  intentness  of 
one  who  fights  off  sleep  in  his  eyes. 

"You  must  rest,"  said  the  priest.  "Let  me  hold 
you  now.    I  have  slept.    I  am  refreshed." 

He  tried  to  raise  himself  but  sank  back.  The 
effort  made  his  head  swim.  A  faintness  came 
upon  him.  Several  times  when  reason  awoke  he 
saw  that  grim  figure,  with  the  tense  set  features 
and  the  eyes  that  fought  against  sleep.  The  sun 
beat  down  on  them.  The  priest  seemed  alone  in 
a  world  of  yellow  li^t  that  closed  in  upon  him. 
It  was  a  vague,  flickering,  contracting  circle  of  con« 
sciousness,  but  dominating  it  ever  was  the  set, 


256        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 

strong  face  of  his  companion.  At  last  even  that 
grew  dim.  Suddenly  he  felt  the  grip  on  his  collar 
tighten  and  heard  the  warrior's  voice: 

"Courage,  Father,"  it  said.  ''Courage,  1  sec  a 
sail." 


CHAPTER  XXVII 


THE  NEW  UFE 

Quickly  the  davit  swung  outboard,  and  already 
manned  was  the  life  boat  when  the  creaking  tackle 
dropped  it  on  the  sea.  Matisse  in  the  stern  han- 
dled the  stecing  oar  and  bent  forward  eagerly 
as  he  urged  the  rowers  to  speed.  They  needed 
little  urging  for  each  of  them  realized  what  des- 
perate tenacity  had  held  the  two  men  on  that  frail 
raft,  and  they  could  guess  that  the  point  of  ex- 
haustion was  near  at  hand.  The  bow  of  their 
good  sea  boat  surged  through  the  waves,  rising 
and  falling,  ever  nearer  to  the  two  stiff  figures 
on  the  hatch  cover.  At  last  Matisse  shouted 
hoarsely  to  the  straining  oarsmen: 

"Avast  1  Holdall!" 

The  oars  gurgled  in  the  sea  and  the  boat  came 
to  a  stop.  Matisse  shot  forth  a  quick  hand  and 
grasped  the  robe  of  the  priest.  Another  instant 
and  the  form  was  lifted  over  the  gunwale  and 
laid  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat.  Two  sailors  as- 
sisted Rushing  Water,  and  soon  the  row  boat  was 
speeding  back  to  the  side  of  the  Juliette. 


257 


258        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


Father  Rcville  was  carried  up  the  short  tide  lad- 
der and  deposited  on  the  deck.  Close  behind  him 
came  his  rescuer.  As  the  young  man  stepped  on 
the  deck,  Captain  Halevy  glanced  at  him  keenly. 
I'or  an  instant  the  warrior  stiffened  his  splendid 
form  and  stood  erect,  then  his  limbs  began  to 
tremble.  The  sinews  softened,  his  red  and  blaz- 
ing eyes  glared  around  wildly  and  his  hands 
reached  out  with  a  weak,  groping  gesture.  Halevy 
leaped  toward  him,  but  before  he  could  reach  him 
a  queer,  weak,  little  sob  broke  from  the  cracked 
lips  of  the  younp:  man,  and  he  staggered  a  step 
and  lurched  headlong  to  the  deck. 

Quickly  his  messmates  gathered  round  him  and 
lifting  him  they  carried  him  below,  as  they  had 
a  few  minutes  before  carried  the  unconsdous 
priest. 

The  cabin  assigned  to  Father  Reville  opened  on 
the  companionway  at  the  foot  of  the  ladder 
leading  to  the  spar  deck.  There  was  an  open  port 
at  one  end  and  a  door  at  the  other.  A  bunk  seven 
feet  long  by  two  feet  wide  was  attached  to  the 
bulkhead,  and  opposite  this  rude  berth  was  the 
chair  that  formed  the  single  article  of  movable 
furniture  in  the  cabin.  It  was  in  this  compart- 
ment that  Father  Rcville  recovered  consciousness 
on  the  morning  after  the  rescue.  His  first  thought 
was  for  his  Indian  friend,  and  as  Captain  Halevy 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


stood  by  his  side  he  made  immedtate  inquiry.  The 
captain  shook  his  head. 

When  consciousness  had  rctiirncd  to  Rushing 
Water,  it  was  a  strange  incoherent  consciousness, 
crowded  with  phantoms.  His  amazed  comrades 
sto  d  around  him  as  he  teased  in  his  hammock, 
ready  to  hold  him  should  his  \  iolence  threaten  in- 
Jury  to  himself.  They  looked  n  him  with  deep 
sympathy  when  the  sobs  cr-  c  iicoi  him,  broken 
and  bitter  like  those  of  a  .  .lan  in  extreme 
agony,  and  their  faces  showed  wonder  when  sud- 
denly his  voice  would  rise  in  high,  quick  exclama- 
tions in  the  Delaware  tongue. 

This  the  captain  explained  to  the  Jesuit.  The 
priest's  face  darkened  with  concern  and  he  swung 
himself  out  of  the  berth. 

"No,  you  must  not  do  that,  Father,"  the  cap- 
tain protested.  "You  are  still  too  weak.  He  is 
getting  every  attention." 

But  the  Jesuit  standing  with  his  hand  on  the 
bulkhead,  to  steady  himself,  shook  his  head. 

"My  weakness  shall  soon  pass,"  he  said.  "Aye, 
I  am  better  now,  my  mind  clears.  Your  arm.  Cap- 
tain, I  must  go  to  him  " 

Captain  Halev7  encircled  with  his  muscular 
arm  the  frail  form  of  the  missionary  and  sup- 
ported him  to  the  sick  bay  where  Rushing  Water 
lay  in  his  hammock.   A  weather-beaten,  thin-fea- 


26o        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 

tured  sailorman  was  acting  as  nurse.  His  great, 
hairy  arms,  tattooed  to  the  shoulder,  were  bare,  a 
bright  red  kerchief  was  tied  around  his  neck  in 
a  loose  knot,  and  huge  earrings  dangled  from  his 
ears.  His  small  eyes  looked  out  of  a  wrinkled 
face  upon  which  was  a  thatch  of  thick,  gray  hair. 
Father  Reville  noticed  that  although  his  hands 
were  rough  and  knotty,  they  caressed  with  almost 
a  woman's  gentleness  the  throbbing  forehead  ot 

the  sick  man.  ,  .  ,_ 

"How  fares  our  friend,  Jules?"  the  captam 

asked.  ,  ,  r  n 

The  gray  head  was  shaken  dolefully. 

"It  seems  a  bad  business,  sir,"  he  answered. 
"If  I  could  only  understand  what  he  says,  I 
might  do  something  for  him.  But  it  is  all,  as  you 
hear,  wild  raving  in  that  heathen  tongue  of  his. 
Sometimes  he  sobs  like  a  baby,  sir,  and  sometimes 
he  shouts  out  like  a  fleet  commander." 

The  priest  took  the  place  of  the  sailor  by  the 
side  of  the  hammock  and  laid  a  hand  on  the  brow 

of  the  sufferer.  .ml 
"I  would  have  him  in  my  cabin,  Captam,  he 

said.   "Let  him  be  laid  in  my  berth." 

"But  you,   Father  I     You  are  not  strong 

enough  "  the  captain  began. 

"Strength  is  not  of  the  body,  my  son,  but  of 
the  spirit,"  the  priest  answered,  "and  the  God 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  261 


who  gave  him  strength  to  battle  with  the  deep, 
win  give  me  what  strength  I  need." 

They  carried  the  young  man  into  the  priest's 
small  cabin  and  laid  him  in  the  berth.  There 
Father  Reville,  who  like  many  of  the  missionaries 
of  his  Order  and  of  his  day  was  a  physician  as 
well  as  a  priest,  began  to  nurse  him  back  to  health. 
Cold  water  from  over  the  side  he  had  brought 
to  him  in  huge  buckets,  and  with  this  he  bathed 
the  form  of  the  sick  man  until  the  cooled  blood 
gave  the  natural  vitality  of  the  young  warrior  a 
chance  to  fight. 

It  was  a  long  struggle,  however,  and  nearly 
two  weeks  had  gone  by  before  the  priest  dared 
to  hope  that  the  grim  reaper  had  been  beaten. 
He  himself  was  showing  by  this  time  the  strain 
under  which  he  laboicd.  His  spare  frame  was 
more  attenuated  than  ever,  and  his  face  seemed 
almost  transparent.  His  patient  that  morning 
seemed  to  sleep  with  less  distress  showing  in  quiv- 
ering features  and  tossing,  restless  limbs. 

Captain  Halevy  looked  in  through  the  door  of 
the  tiny  cabin. 

"Good  morning,  Father,"  said  the  sailor  in  a 
whisper.    "How  is  our  hero  this  morning?" 

Father  Reville  rose  and  tiptoed  to  the  door. 

"I  think  we  gain  a  little,  Captain,"  he  said. 
"The  poor  boy,  but  for  his  youth  and  more  than 


262        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


common  strength,  would  have  paid  with  his  life 
for  that  plunge  into  the  sea.  You  do  well  to 
speak  of  him  as  a  hero,  Captain.  I  remember 
his  voice  as  it  came  to  me  in  the  sea  through  the 
roar  of  the  storm.  It  was  calm  and  full  and 
firm.   There  was  no  fear  in  it." 

The  priest  had  stepped  over  the  door  sill  and 
the  captain  got  him  by  the  arm. 

"Father,"  he  s:;id,  "this  poor  fellow  has  been 
much  in  my  thoughts.  What  he  did  that  night  is 
a  thing  a  man  cannot  f^asily  forget.  When  I  saw 
you  lifted  from  the  deck  and  carried  out  into  the 
darkness,  my  heart  sank,  and  then  he  left  my  side 
and  went  over  the  rail  after  you,  into  the  black 
desolation,  without  a  pause  to  think  how  minute 
was  the  chance  of  success.  It  was  an  astounding 
thing.  Do  you  know,  Father  Reville,  I  have  fol- 
lowed the  sea  for  a  great  many  years  and  have 
had  the  honor  of  serving  my  King  on  the  field  of 
battle,  but  that  was  an  act  of  daring  beyond  any 
I  have  ever  seen.  It  is  m>re  like  Ac  splendid  folly 
of  which  we  read  in  the  old  days  of  chivalry,  when 
the  good  kni^ts  bound  themselves  to  care  nothing 
for  life  as  against  the  call  of  honor  and  the  pos- 
sibility of  service." 

For  a  few  minutes  the  priest  was  silent  and 
then  he  replied: 

"Captain,  I  have  been  on  my  Father's  business 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  263 


among  the  red  men  of  America  for  many  years, 
and  I  have  never  known  another  Indian  like  this 
man.  It  is  true  that  the  race  has  some  noble  at- 
tributes but  they  are  more  like  the  nobilities  of  all 
savage  peoples  whom  I  have  so  far  encountered. 
Their  spirit  of  sacrifice  is  tainted  with  pride.  They 
endure  not  for  another  but  for  their  own  glory, 
and  while  they  have  these  generous  feelings,  which 
I  have  no  doubt  a  sympathetic  civilization  might 
cultivate  into  great  traits,  they  lack  the  gentle 
graces  that  crop  out  so  often  in  the  conduct  ©f 
this  boy.  Have  you  ever  noted,  Captain,  how  Ais 
Iiidian  laughs?" 

"Aye,"  said  the  captain.  "He  laughs  easily, 
and  I  think  that  very  laughter  of  his,  which  is 
so  merry  and  so  true,  is  what  has  won  for  him 
the  hearts  of  our  sailors.  Surely,  I  never  before 
saw  seamen  so  taken  with  one  of  an  aKen  race." 

Father  Reville  sighed  a  little  and  looked  over 
his  shoulder  at  the  face  of  the  slumbering  man. 
Captain  Halevy  drew  him  gently  out  on  the  deck. 

"Come,  Father,"  he  saKl,  "you  must  have  a  lit- 
tle rest.  I  shall  call  Jules  to  watch  by  his  side, 
for  he  sleeps  now,  and  you  come  with  me  up 
above  and  let's  take  a  turn  under  the  open  sky. 
You  haven't  seen  it  these  many  days." 

The  priest  glanced  back  at  his  patient.  For  a 
second  he  hesitated,  and  tbent  as  Jules  came  run- 


264        THE  CRYSTAL  RO(M> 


ning  forward,  he  nodded  and  accompanied  Cap- 
tain Ilalcvy  up  the  companion  ladder.  The  cap- 
tain drew  out  an  easy  chair  for  him  and  set  it  on 
the  deck  in  the  sunshine.  The  was  dear  and 
bracing.  The  sky  was  a  blue  immensity,  u^ecked 
by  floating  clouds.  The  warm  sunlight  tempered 
the  snappy,  chilling  breeze  that  came  ff^  the 
northern  seas. 

"There,"  said  the  captain,  as  he  wrapped  a 
rug  around  the  feet  of  the  priest.  "Put  your  head 
back  and  close  your  eyes.  Breathe  in  a  little  of 
this  air.  k  is  like  wine,  full  of  life.  It  has  the 
snap  of  the  north  in  it,  Father.  There  is  nothing 
like  the  north  to  put  real  life  in  the  air,  and  the 
life  of  the  air  is  the  life  of  the  blood.  Don't  you 
think  so,  Father?" 

But  the  priest  did  not  answer.  His  breast  was 
rising  and  falling  gently,  and  his  eyes  were  closed. 
The  crucifix  released  from  his  thin,  delicate  fin- 
gers, slipped  gently  to  the  deck  beside  him.  A 
look  of  satisfaction  settled  on  the  face  of  the 
sailor,  and  he  sat  on  a  coil  of  rope  beside  the 
sleeping  Jesuit. 

The  sun  sloped  up  to  the  zenith  where  it  seemed 
to  hold  itself  a  while,  like  a  gull  that  soars  to  rest 
his  wings,  and  then  began  its  decline  toward  the 
western  wave.  Still  Father  Reville  slept.  Toward 
evening  the  .freshening  breeze  brought  an  added 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  265 


chill  to  the  air,  and  the  attentive  ship's  master 
procured  another  rug  which  he  placed  over  the 
sleeper. 

Suddenly  a  sweet,  bird-like  trill  floated  up  from 
the  companionway.  The  priest  stirred  uneasily. 
Captain  Halevy  started,  a  look  of  inquiry  on  his 
brow  and  as  he  listened  the  note  sounded  a  sec- 
ond time,  and  the  priest  opened  his  eyes. 

"Ah!"  he  said,  and  there  was  new  strength  in 
his  voice.   "That  is  the  voice  of  the  thrush." 

"The  thrush?"    There  was  perplexity  in 
voice  of  the  captain. 

"Yes,"  exclaimed  the  priest,  jumping  to  )m 
feet.  "  'Tis  an  Indian  call.  I  must  go  down  to 
Rushing  Water." 

He  hurried  down  the  companion  ladder,  the 
captain  at  his  heels.  Jules  looked  up,  with  his 
finger  on  his  lips,  as  they  entered  the  cabin. 

Quickly  Father  Reville  caught  the  wrist  ol  Ac 
sick  man  with  one  hand  while  he  laid  the  o#ier 
on  the  warrior's  brow. 

"Ha!"  he  said.  "The  fever  comes  again. 
Jules,  bring  me  a  bucket  of  water  quickly." 

The  sick  man  stirred  and  the  priest  bent  for- 
ward to  listen. 

"Humming  Bird,"  murmured  Rushing  Water, 
in  the  Delaware  tongue,  "Oh,  Humming  Birdl 


266        THE  CRYSTAL  RCX)D 


Not  here  I — Not  there! — Where,  oh,  Humming 
Bird!" 

Suddenly  he  raised  himself  on  his  elbow,  his 
eyes  wide  open  now,  and  glared  at  Captain  Halevy 
who  stood  at  Father  Reville*s  shoulder. 

"Stop!"  he  commanded,  his  voice  high  and  im- 
perative. "Ish-to-ba,  stop!  Thou  shalt not !  Dog, 
it  is  the  third  time!"  His  right  arm  was  uplifted 
as  if  it  held  a  tomahawk. 

At  a  sign  from  Father  Revillc,  Captain  Halevy 
stepped  out  of  the  room.  The  warrior  sat  bolt 
upright  in  the  berth. 

"Humming  Bird!"  he  cried.  "I  am  Humming 
Bird's  warrior.   Where,  oh.  Humming  Bird!" 

Again  kc  raised  the  thrush  pipe.  As  it  died 
away  he  trembled  and  sank  back  on  his  pillow. 

"Humming  Bird!"  he  cried  brokenly.  "Not 
here! — Not  there! — Where,  oh,  Humming 
Bird!" 

By  now  Jules  had  returned  with  the  bucket  of 
cold  sea  water  and  Father  Reville  was  applying  it 
to  the  fevered  body.  UnJer  his  ministrations  the 
temperature  of  the  sick  man  slowly  went  down, 
and  again  an  untroubled  sleep  rame  to  him. 

The  young  man's  delirium  did  not  again  re- 
turn. He  slept  peacefully  and  quietly  throughout 
the  night.  And  the  next  morning  when  the  Father 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  267 


stood  beside  his  kammodc,  the  young  man  looked 
up  at  him  with  sane  eyes. 

"Rushing  Water  is  very  ill,  Father,"  he  said. 

"My  son  is  better  now,"  the  priest  answered. 

With  an  odd  little  motion  the  warrior  raised  a 
weak  hand,  then  looked  at  it. 

"No,"  he  said,  "Rushing  Water  has  run  his 
course.  He  is  like  the  river  that  pours  itself  into 
the  ocean.  He  is  near  the  ocean." 

"My  son  deceives  himself,"  said  the  priest. 
"He  is  stronger.  He  will  be  stronger  than  he 
was  before  the  sickness  came  upon  him." 

For  a  minute  the  young  man  lay  quiet  looking 
at  him. 

"See,  Father,"  he  said  suddenly,  again  raising 
his  hand  and  thrusting  it  out  toward  the  priest. 

Father  Reville  looked  at  it  in  astonishment. 

"What  is  there  to  see,  my  son?"  he  asked. 

"It  grows  white,"  answered  the  sick  man. 

A  strange  look  came  into  the  priest's  eyes. 

"What  is  this?"  he  asked. 

"Listen,"  said  the  young  man.  "When  the 
mother  of  Rushing  Water  died  she  gave  him 
Manitu's  message.  She  said  that  because  he  vas 
selected  for  a  great  work  for  his  people,  he  must 
perform  certain  rites.  He  must  crush  the  tumeric 
root  and  iistiS  the  stain  and  badie  himself  in  it. 


268        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


Should  he  fail  to  do  this  his  body  would  become 

pale,  and  death  would  come  upon  him." 

"What!"  exclaimed  the  priest,  in  an  intense, 
eager  voice.    *'Tell  me  of  this,  my  son." 

"Rushing  Water  has  always  obeyed,"  was  the 
answer.  "When  he  left  his  people  and  came  down 
the  long  river  in  his  canoe,  each  morning  he  went 
a^Jn?  into  the  woods  and  performed  his  rites.  Be- 
fore he  came  on  board  the  great  ship  he  gathered 
much  tumeric  and  made  such  stain,  and  this  he  hid 
away.  But  for  many  sleeps  now  he  has  had  no 
stain.  See!  the  words  of  Outanie  come  true. 
His  skin  whitens.  The  course  of  Rushing  W^ater 
is  run." 

"And  that  crystal,"  said  the  priest,  bending  over 
him  and  pointing  to  the  cross  now  visible  through 
the  opening  in  the  breast  of  his  shirt.  "Whence 
came  that?" 

"Oh  I"  said  the  boy.  "The  totem  of  Manitu. 
Outanie  put  it  on  Rushing  Water's  neck  and  bade 
him  wear  it." 

"Then  I,  too,  as  you  have  seen,"  said  the  priest, 
"wear  the  totem  of  Manitu.  I  am  a  medicine  man 
and  a  sagamore,  and  the  Great  Spirit  speaks  to 
me  In  many  ways  of  mystery,  and  I  say  to  von 
His  voice  that  you  shall  not  die,  but  shall  live  a 
new  life." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 


"land,  ho  I" 

Rushing  Water's  convalescence  was  rapid.  The 
fever  that  had  resulted  from  his  exposure  and 
exhaustion  soon  yielded  to  the  simple  medicaments 
of  the  Jesuit  priest,  and  the  splendid  vitality  of 
the  young  man's  body.  Father  Reville  watched 
his  recovery  witfi  impatience.  The  priest  had  a 
great  secret  to  tell  this  young  man,  but  feared  to 
make  his  disclosure  until  his  patient  had  sufficient 
strength  to  bear  whatever  shock  the  news  might 
carry.  Satisfied  in  this  respect  at  last,  Father  Re- 
ville began  his  conversation  very  quietly: 

"My  son  is  strong  again,"  he  said  one  morning 
as  he  sat  beside  die  hammock. 

"Yes,"  the  warrior  answered,  "Rushing  Water 
is  strong;  he  should  be  up  above  at  his  work  and 
not  here." 

"All  in  good  time,"  said  Father  Reville,  smiling 
at  Rushing  Water's  impatience.  "Tomorrow  you 
may  leave  your  hammock  and  resume  your  woric, 
but  today  I  htw  tomething  to  tell  you." 

S69 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


"What  is  it»  Father?"  the  young  man  asked 

quietly. 

"On  the  morrow,"  said  the  priest,  "if  the  wind 
holds  true,  we  shall  sail  into  the  harbor  of  Bor- 
deaux.  Does  my  son  wish  to  stay  with  the  ship 

or  to  sec  the  country  of  the  white  people?" 

"Rushing  Water  would  dwell  awhile  in  the 
woods  of  the  white  people,"  the  young  man  an- 

swcrcd. 

The  Jesuit  smiled.  "There  arc  still  some  woods 
in  the  land  of  the  white  people,  my  son,"  he  said, 
"but  most  of  the  land  is  great  farms,  and  cities 
with  houses  built  side  by  side,  all  crowded  to- 
gether. My  son  would  walk  many  miles  in  this 
city  of  Bordeaux  without  seeing  any  woods." 

Rushing  Water's  eyes  looked  puzzled. 

"It  would  be  difficult  to  follow  a  trail  then,"  he 
said,  "in  this  city?  Black  Robe  knows  what  I 
mean.  It  would  be  hard  to  find  a  person." 

"Very  hard,"  the  priest  assented. 

"Yet  it  might  be  done?" 

"Oh,  yes!  It  might  be  done,  but  what  1  wish 
to  speak  to  you  about  is  this:  You  are  gomg  into 
a  white  people's  country.  You  should  not  feel 
strange  there,  for  my  son  is  no  true  Indian.  His 
blood  is  the  blood  of  the  white  people,  his  skin 
is  the  skin  of  the  white  people,  only  a  stain  kept  it 
dark  like  the  skin  of  an  Indian." 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  271 

Rushing  Water  drew  a  ilecp  breath. 

*'Black  Robe  means,"  he  said,  speaking  very 
slowly,  "that  I  am  not  an  Indian;  that — I — am — a 
— white — man?" 

"It  is  true,  my  son,"  the  priest  answered. 

"How  can  it  be?"  Rushing  Water  tried,  run- 
ning his  hand  across  his  forehead.  "I  am  the  son 
of  an  Indian  father  and  an  Indian  mother.  How 
can  my  blood  be  white?" 

"Has  not  my  son  known  one  of  the  red  women 
to  take  a  babe,  whose  mother  had  been  killed,  and 
care  for  it  and  nurse  it?"  asked  the  priest.  "Sup- 
pose an  Indian  woman  should  fuul  a  white  babe 
whose  mother  and  father  had  been  killed,  and 
should  grow  to  love  it  and  wish  to  bring  it  up 
with  all  the  affectionate  care  she  might  bestow 
on  her  own  son?  Suppose  she  feared  that  if  the 
babe  grew  up  with  the  white  skin  among  the  In- 
dians, his  happiness  and  even  his  life  might  be  en- 
dangered? Would  she  not  stain  the  child's  skin, 
atid  would  she  not  teach  him,  as  a  means  of  pre- 
serving his  own  life,  to  continue  the  practice,  when 
her  loving  hands  were  powerless  to  aid  him 
further?" 

With  a  quick,  shrewd  glance  Rushing  Water 
searched  the  face  of  the  priest. 

"And  this,  then,  is  why  my  hands  have  been 


MKROCOTY  RESOUITION  TEST  CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


/1PPLIED  M/V3E  he 

I6S3  East  Main  Strrat 

Rochestar,  N«»  York      14609  USA 

(716)  ♦82  -  0300-  Ptioiw 

(7tS)  2M  -  SIM  -  F« 


272        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


getting  white?"  he  asked,  raising  up  his  hands 
before  him. 

Father  Resile  nodded.  For  a  long  time  there 
was  silence.  "Poor  Outanie,"  murmured  the 
young  man  at  last. 

"What  do  you  say,  my  son?"  asked  the  priest. 

"I  thought  of  one  I  had  loved  who  was  a  red 
woman,  Father,"  the  young  man  answered.  "But 
now,"  he  added,  his  eyes  brightening,  "I  think  of 
other  things.  I  think  of  a  wonderful  world." 

"With  God's  help  it  is  yours  to  conquer,"  said 
the  priest  smiling.  "But  listen,  my  son  I  You 
will  enter  this  new  world  almost  as  helpless  as  a 
baby.  You  have  beer,  trained  in  the  ways  of  the 
wilderness,  to  hunt  wild  animals  and  take  your 
living  from  the  things  that  dwell  in  the  woods. 
Now  you  will  go  into  a  world  where  such  knowl- 
edge is  of  little  value.  You  have  strength  of  body 
and  that  is  a  great  thing.  But  you  have  more, 
you  have  a  mind  capable  of  knowing  what  the 
wise  men  of  the  white  race  know,  of  learning  to 
read  the  great  books  wherein  their  sagamores  of 
the  past  have  preserved  the  wisdom  and  traditions 
of  ages  long  gone.  Some  little  I  can  do  to  help 
you  enrich  your  mind.  It  will  be  but  a  beginning. 
Most  of  the  work  you  must  do  for  yourself. 
Listen,  my  son!  In  this  city  of  Bordeaux  is  one 
of  the  houses  of  my  Order.    Let  me  bring  you 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  273 


into  that  house  an  Indian  and  send  you  forth  diere- 
from  a  white  man.  Let  us  say  nothing  to  these 
dear  friends  of  ours  on  board  this  ship,  of  our 
discovery,  nor  indeed  let  us  tell  no  man.  Come 
with  me  when  we  land  In  Bordeaux  tomorrow, 
and  you  shall  learn  to  read  and  write  the  language 
of  the  French  people  and  to  speak  it,  so  that  when 
you  go  forth  to  do  your  own  work  the  words  of 
those  among  whom  you  travel  shall  not  be  a  dark- 
ness in  which  you  can  see  no  meaning." 

The  grateful  look  in  the  eyes  of  Rushing  Water 
showed  how  deeply  he  appreciated  this  offer  of  as- 
sistance. He  gladly  assented  to  the  plan  the  priest 
proposed,  and  during  the  rest  of  the  day  the  two 
friends  chatted  together  of  plans  for  the  future, 
as  Rushing  Water  lay  in  his  bunk  and  the  old 
priest  sat  beside  him. 

"You  are  a  strange  man,  Black  Robe,"  said 
Rushing  Water,  "sagamore  and  preacher  and 
healer  of  the  sick,  carer  for  the  stranger  and 
teacher  of  the  ignorant." 

"We  were  bidden,"  the  priest  answered  with 
a  smile,  "by  a  great  sagamore  and  a  great  saint, 
to  be  'all  things  to  all  men.'  I  am  all  that  you 
have  said,  and  in  addition  ...  t.:s  a  woodsman 
and  a  traveler  in  a  far  land.  It  is  the  pride  of 
our  Order  that  such  we  are  I  am  willing  to  be 
anything, — I  am  upon  my  Master's  business." 


274        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


For  an  instant  the  old  eyes  flashed.  Rushing 
Water  had  never  seen  a  warrior  boast  of  his 
prowess,  who  held  his  head  more  proudly  than 

the  old  man  at  his  side. 

Light  breezes  on  the  Bay  of  Biscay  were  waft- 
ing the  Juliette  still  westward  on  the  following 
morning,  when  the  deep  voice  of  the  lookout  rang 
out  with  the  glad  cry  of 

"Land,  Ho!" 

"Where  away?"  came  the  quick  inquiry  from 

Captain  Halevy. 

"Off  the  starboard  bow,"  came  the  answer  from 
the  masthead. 

"That  would  be  the  Isle  d'Olerci  if  my  reckon- 
ing be  true,"  said  Captain  Halevy.  "Monsieur 
Matisse,  we  shall  bring  her  head  more  to  the 
south!  Within  a  few  hours,  Father,"  he  said, 
turning  to  the  priest  cheerfully,  "we  should  be 
land-locked." 

Rushing  Water,  still  a  trifle  unsteady  on  his 
feet,  heard  the  first  officer's  sharp  order,  "Tacks 
and  sheets!"  and  saw  his  companion  haul  the 
weather  side  of  the  yards  aft,  as  the  helm  went 
over  and  the  head  of  the  ship  came  up  into  the 
wind.  He  sprang  into  the  shrouds  to  get  a  glance 
at  this  strange  land  he  was  now  rapidly  approach- 
ing. As  they  drew  into  the  wide  jaws  of  the  estu- 
ary into  which  the  Garonne  discharges  its  placid 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  275 


flow,  Father  Reville  keenly  watched  the  face  of 
his  protege.  He  saw  his  glance  shift  quickly  and 
incessantly  from  one  point  of  interest  to  another, 
resting  now  on  the  yellow  sand  spit  projecting 
into  the  sea,  and  now  on  the  little  cluster  of  white 
cottages  inside  the  harbor,  where  the  fishing  vil- 
lage of  Rovan  gleamed  in  the  westering  sun 
against  the  rich  summer  green  of  burdened  or- 
chards and  cultivated  fields. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 


THE   HAND  AND  THE  HANDKERCHIEF 

The  house  of  Francois  Dupont  ct  Fils  was  a 
well  established  mercantile  house  in  Bordeaux. 
The  original  Francois,  who  had  established  the 
business,  was  long  since  dust  in  the  quiet  grave- 
yard of  St.  Madeleine,  and  his  son,  who  was  his 
first  partner,  was  now  a  very  ancient  gentleman, 
living  comfortably  on  the  profits  of  a  long  mer- 
cantile career,  and  seldom  visiting  the  quaint  old 
business  quarters  in  which  his  grandsons  were  en- 
ergetically prosecuting  the  ancestral  enterprise. 

In  the  beginning  this  concern  dealt  in  Oriental 
commodities  carried  from  the  East  in  the  bottoms 
of  the  enterprising  Genoese  and  Venetians,  and 
trans-shipped  at  these  Adriatic  ports  for  Bordeaux. 
As  the  American  trade  became  profitable,  the 
astute  descendants  of  old  Francois  turned  their 
eyes  to  the  westward,  and  they  soon  were  leaders 
in  the  trade  in  American  furs.  Their  counting 
house  faced  the  bustling  Rue  St.  Louis  in  the  heart 
of  the  business  quarter  of  the  city.  They  were  in 
a  quaint  old  gabled  house,  with  time-stained  walls 

276 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  a?? 


and  great  square  windows,  each  composed  of  small 
squares  of  glass.   Through  these  windows  might 
be  seen  heaps  of  beautiful  furs,  the  pelts  of  beaver, 
otter,  lynx,  silver  fox,  mink  and  buffalo,  while 
here  and  there  the  tawny  skin  of  the  tiger  was 
hung  as  a  reminder  of  the  original  source  of  the 
firm's  commodities.   The  barred  doors  were  open 
to  admit  the  air,  for  the  spring  day  was  unduly 
warm,  and  bright  su.ishine  lay  in  bars  across  the 
bare,  brown  floor.  A  great  oaken  counter,  almost 
black  from  age,  ran  th   full  width  of  the  office. 
Behind  this  were  high  desks  of  the  same  material, 
at  which  the  ink-stained  clerks  sat,  some  of  them 
bending  over  huge  ledgers,  while  others  were  busy 
with  great  heaps  of  invoices  and  bills  of  lading. 
In  the  wareroom,  back  of  the  oflEice,  workmen 
were  busy,  softly  beating  stretched  skins  with 
padded  mallets. 

In  one  corner  of  the  counting  room,  at  a  square 
desk,  sat  Monsieur  Gabriel  Dupont,  the  present 
head  of  the  house.  His  outer  aspect  was  eloquent 
of  prosperity.  The  bald  and  shining  poll,  the 
small,  shrewd  eyes,  the  rubicund  cheeks  and  tripli- 
cate chin  bespoke  a  life  of  rich  food,  and  Mon- 
sieur Gabriel's  clothing,  with  costly  lace  at  throat 
and  cuffs,  and  gold-buckled  shoes  indicated  the 
man  of  wealth. 

It  was  into  this  office  that  Father  Reville,  Jesuit 


278        THE  CRYSTAL  RCX)D 


missionary,  recently  returned  from  America, 
walked  one  morning  with  Rushing  Water.  He 
was  no  longer  Rushing  Water,  however.  In 
adopting  the  new  faith  and  assuming  his  rightful 
role  of  a  white  man,  he  had  chosen  to  bear  the 
name  of  his  benefactor,  and  he  came  forth  into  the 
world,  after  nine  months  of  study  under  the 
Jesuits,  as  Ehn  Reville. 

Monsieur  Gabriel  looked  at  him  with  interest, 
for  he  made  a  distinguished  figure,  with  his  hair, 
brown  now  that  the  stained  bear  grease  was  no 
longer  upon  it,  tied  with  a  ribbon  at  the  back  of 
his  head,  his  quiet,  brown  suit  cut  to  fit  his  lean, 
lithe  frame,  and  his  silver  shoe  buckles  brightly 
polished. 

"Ah  I"  said  the  merchant,  advancing  to  welcome 
the  two  visitors.  "Father  Reville,  you  are  wel- 
come indeed.  We  have  seen  little  of  you  since 
your  return  from  the  wilderness." 

"I  have  been  busy,"  the  priest  answered.  "But 
my  old  friend  Gabriel  seems  to  have  borne  my 
absence  remarkably  well.  Life  has  gone  well  with 
him?" 

"Not  badly,  not  badly,  Father,"  said  the  mer- 
chant.    "As  you  may  see,  the  years  have  put 

plenty  of  flesh  on  my  bones,  ahhough  they  have 
been  less  generous  with  my  old  school-mate." 
"One  of  my  calling,"  the  priest  answered  with 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  279 


a  smile,  "has  little  need  for  much  flesh,  Gabriel. 
It  was  sometimes  hard  enough  for  me  to  get  this 
poor  bag  of  bones  transported  without  wishing 
to  add  to  the  burden  of  my  porters.  But  the  Lord 
blesses  each  of  us  in  the  way  best  suited  to  us. 
How  is  Madame  Dupont,  and  how  are  the  chil- 
dren?" 

"Most  prosperou"  "^*'ier,"  the  merchant  an- 
swered, "and  glad  t .  »  Oc  when  you  get  time 
to  visit  our  home.         come  in  and  be  seated, 

you  and  your  friend!" 

He  bustled  about  to  set  chairs  for  them.  When 
they  had  seated  themselves,  the  priest  said: 

"WelV  Gabriel,  I  have  a  favor  to  ask  of  you. 
This  is  a  namesake  of  mine,  Monsieur  Elan  Rc- 
ville,  who  has  been  in  America.  He  has  been  a 
hunter  and  trader  and  I  think  might  be  of  some 
service  to  your  business.  At  any  rate,  my  friend, 
I  want  you  to  give  him  a  chance." 

Monsieur  Gabriel  looked  the  stranger  over 
shrewdly. 

"Ahl    So  you  have  been  a  hunter?"  he  said. 

"Here ! — ^he  nicked  up  a  skin  from  a  great  pile 
from  beside  h's'desk,  "What  pelt  is  that?" 

"I  don't  know,"  answered  I  '-lan  promptly. 

Monsieur  Gabriel  beamed  with  approval. 

"Of  course,  you  would  not  know,"  he  said, 
"that  is  not  an  American  skin,  ac  least  not  a  North 


280        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


American  skin;  that  is  a  puma  pelt  from  the  south. 
But  this  one;  you  know  this  one?" 

Elan  smiled.  "Very  well,"  he  said,  "that  is 
beaver." 

"Right.   And  this?" 

"Black  bear." 

"Quite  right.    And  this  one?" 
"Wolf." 

"And  this  great  rug?" 
"The  pelt  of  the  buffalo." 
"V^ery  well,  very  well  I"  commended  the  mer- 
chant. 

"Now  what  do  you  know  about  curing  these 
pelts?" 

Elan  rapidly  explained  to  him  the  Indian 

method. 

"That  is  very  good,  very  good  indeed!"  com- 
mended the  merchant.  "I  think  you  can  be  very 
useful  to  us.  Father,  the  pleasure  of  serv"ng  you 
in  this  matter  is  increased  by  the  knowledge  that 
such  service  will  be  quite  profitable  to  me.  Mon- 
sieur Reville  may  start  in  tomorrow  morning  at 
eight  o'clock.  Ho,  Monsieur  Bientot,  come 
hitherl" 

From  the  room  in  the  rear  a  little  old  man  in 
an  apron,  with  a  padded  mallet  in  his  hand,  ap- 
peared. 

"This,  Monsieur,"  said  Gabriel,  turning  to 


THE  CRYST/iL  ROOD 


i8i 


Elan,  "is  our  foreman.  You  will  report  to  him 
tomorrow.  Bientot,  this  young  man  will  join  us 
in  your  room.  He  has  been  telling  me  of  the  In- 
dian method  of  curing  skins,  and  there  are  some 
fcatu  's  which  wc  do  not  practise.  It  would  be 
well  to  try  them  out." 

Monsieur  Bientot  nodded  and  grinned,  and  re- 
tired to  his  workroom. 

Father  Reville  and  Elan  sat  a  little  longer  with 
the  head  of  the  house,  Elan  quiet  and  listening, 
while  the  two  old  friends  exchanged  remi- 
niscences. 

Thus  was  the  child  of  the  wilderness  mstalled 
in  the  house  of  Franqois  Dupont  et  Fils. 

Handling  pelts  was  a  familiar  occupation  and 
he  soon  became  proficient.  From  friendship  for 
Father  Reville  and  from  interest  i.;  Elan's  per- 
sonality, Monsieur  Gabriel  bestowed  a  great  deal 
of  attention  upon  him,  and  in  fitting  out  expedi- 
tions for  America  the  merchant  found  his  advice 
quite  valuable. 

Meanwhile,  Elan,  at  the  suggestion  of  his 
friend,  left  the  house  of  the  Jesuits,  and  rented  a 
small  room  from  a  widow  whose  house  was  near 
the  office.  When  not  engaged  in  his  work,  he  wan- 
dered about  the  streets  continually,  his  quick  eyes 
shifting  from  face  to  face  as  he  searched  in  the 
multitude.    He  attracted  considerable  attention 


*- 


a8a        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


among  the  townspeople,  although  he  was  quite  un- 
conscious of  it.  Notwithstanding  his  present  oc- 
cupation, his  step  was  the  step  of  the  outdoor  man, 
free,  sure  and  strong,  and  under  the  workman's 

blouse  which  he  now  wore  was  a  frame  whose 
every  line  bespoke  ability  anJ  strength. 

The  spring  and  summer  went  by  and  the  autumn 
came.  One  September  morning,  as  he  walked  vig- 
orously from  his  quarters  to  his  work,  he  passed 
two  white-robed  Sisters  in  the  street.  Behind 
them,  arm  in  arm  and  two  by  t^vo,  walked  half  a 
dozen  young  girls.   As  they  passed  him  the  young 
man  stopped  and  gazed  with  i  quick,  searching 
glance  at  one  of  the  girls.    He  recognized  in- 
stantly the  flashing  features  of  Valeric.    As  he 
looked  at  her  she  lifted  her  eyes  and  their  glances 
met.  A  fleeting,  fugitive  sense  of  recollection  was 
mirrored  in  the  girl's  eyes  and  the  color  came  into 
her  cheeks,  then  she  lowered  her  glance  and  passed 
on  with  her  companions. 

For  a  few  minutes  Elan  stood  motionless.  Then 
he  turned  and  quietly  followed  them.  They 
walked  to  a  street  on  the  outskirts  of  the  town 
and  stopped  before  an  iron  gate  set  in  a  high  stone 
wall.  One  of  the  rcligicuse  beat  on  the  door  with 
the  ponderous  brass  knocker.  In  a  minute  the 
postern  was  opened  and  the  Sisters  and  their 
charges  disappeared  within.  Elan  noted  the  loca- 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  283 


tion  of  the  building,  and  with  quick  stride  re* 
traced  his  steps. 

The  next  morning  the  young  man  got  out  of 
bed  before  dawn  and  quickly  dressed  himtclf. 

Hurrying  out  of  the  house  into  the  still  dark  street, 
h'^  made  his  way  to  the  wallcii  enclosure.  Then 
as  the  sky  in  the  cast  became  rosy  with  the  Hush 
of  the  Jay,  he  added  to  the  warbling  of  the  native 
birds  a  new  note,  trilling  forth  on  the  fresh  air 
of  the  fragrant  morning  the  call  of  the  American 
wood  thrush.  Thrice  he  called  and  at  a  windc  .  , 
whose  upper  part  just  showed  bove  the  parapet 
of  the  wall,  he  saw  the  outlines  of  a  small  white 
hand,  and  caught  the  flutter  of  a  lace  handker- 
chief. 


CHAPTER  XXX 


AN  INDIAN  ON  THE  WALL 

Mother  Scholastlcus,  Superior  of  the  Con- 
vent School  of  Notre  Dame  de  Bordeaux,  smiled 
as  she  heard  a  gay,  ringing  laugh  from  the  dor- 
mitory. 

"Sister,"  she  said  to  Sister  Mathilde,  "is  that 
Valerie  laughing?" 

"Yes,  Mother,"  replied  little  Sister  Mathilde. 
"She  laughs  quite  frequently  now.  The  child  has 
quite  lost  that  air  of  sadness  that  sat  so  poorly 
upon  her." 

"  'Tis  well,"  said  the  Mother  Superior,  "I  was 
beginning  to  fear  for  her  health,  although  Dr. 
Mattieu  assures  me  that  she  is  physically  sound." 

"The  humors  of  young  ladies  are  strange, 
Mother,"  said  Sister  Mathilde,  with  a  little  sigh. 

Just  then  the  dormitory  door  opened  and  the 
Sisters  listened  to  the  gay  chatter  of  the  girls. 

"You  do,  Valerie,  you  do !"  cried  one  voice. 

"No,  nol"  answered  Valerie.  "I  am  sure  I  do 
not." 

284 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  285 


"Oh,  yes,"  insisted  the  voice,  "but  you  do  in 
the  early  dawn  I" 

"Let  her  have  her  way,"  chimed  in  a  third 
voice.  "You  must  not  spoil  our  llt:'^  romance. 
Why,  we  haven't  had  anything  here  so  perfectly 
thrilling  in  months.  Just  think  of  it,  a  beautiful 
somnambulist." 

Again  came  Valerie's  laughing  protest. 

"But  only  this  morning,"  insisted  the  first  voice, 
"you  got  up  just  before  daybreak!" 

"Hush,  foolish,"  said  Valerie. 

"But  you  did,"  the  girl  insisted,  "and  the  other 
morning — it  is  nearly  a  w  eek  ago — I  heard  you 
stirring  and  it  awakened  me.  Then  I  saw  you 
rise  like  a  white  ghost  out  of  your  bed  and  glide 
to  the  window,  and  you  raised  your  hand  so  high 
and  held  it  there  with  your  handkerchief  flut- 
tering." 

A  chorus  of  delighted  "Ah's"  and  "Ob's"  greet- 
ed this  narrative,  and  one  of  the  girls  exclaimed: 

"Isn't  it  splendid?  Please  don't  stop  it,  Va- 
lerie!" 

But  the  two  Sisters  in  the  outer  room  exchanged 
glances,  and  a  little  frown  of  perplexity  wrinkled 
slightly  the  gentle  brow  of  the  Mother  Superior. 

"That  is  rather  strange.  Sister,"  she  said  to 
Sister  Mathilde. 

"Quite  strange,"  replied  Sister  Mathilde. 


286        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


The  Mother  Superior  reached  up  and  pulled  a 
tasseled  cord  and  the  clanging  of  a  bell  in  the 
distant  court  came  faintly  to  them.  Within  a  few 
minutes  old  Mathias,  the  watchman,  stood  before 
her,  rumpling  his  cap  in  his  gnarled  old  hands. 

"Mathias,"  said  the  Mother,  "arc  the  windows 
of  the  dormitory  visible  from  the  road?" 

"From  the  far  side,  Mother,"  answered  the  old 
man.  "The  upper  part  of  the  pane  is  just  ap- 
parent above  the  wall." 

"Have  you  noticed  anything  strange  in  the 
road,  Mathias,  about  daybreak?" 

"No,  Mother,  but  I  couKI  not  well  do  so  for  I 
make  my  last  round  outside  about  half  an  hour 
before  the  dawn,"  he  answered. 

"H'm  I"  The  Mother  Superior  laid  a  thought- 
ful  finger  upon  her  lips.  "Mathias,"  she  said  at 
last  after  a  minute  of  reverie,  "tomorrow  let  your 
last  round  be  about  daybreak,  and  report  to  me 
anything  you  may  sec?" 

When  Valerie  wakened  before  the  dawn  the 
following  morning,  she  crept  from  her  bed  very 
softly  and,  before  she  went  to  the  window,  bent 
over  the  figure  of  the  telltale  companion  of  the 
previous  day  to  assure  herself  that  that  young 
lady  was  fast  asleep.  Then  with  her  little  lace 
handkerchief  in  her  hand  she  hastened  to  the  win- 
dow.   As  she  did  so  the  wood  thrush  call  rose 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  287 


on  the  air  outside.  Valerie  raised  her  hand  high 
and  waved  the  little  patch  of  lace,  she  locked  out 
at  the  high,  stone  wall  behind  which  she  knew 
Elan  must  be  standing. 

Even  as  she  gazed  she  gave  a  little  start  and 
placed  her  hand  over  her  heart.    A  hand  had  ap- 
peared grasping  the  coping  stones  of  the  wall. 
The  girl  gently  opened  the  lattice  and  leaned  over 
the  sill.   A  moccasined  foot  and  a  leg  in  a  fringed 
deerskin  leggin  were  now  flung  over  the  parapet, 
and  an  instant  later  Elan  in  the  habiliments  of 
the  wilderness,  was  outlined  against  the  pahng 
east.    He  had  hardly  gained  an  upright  position, 
however,  w  '  en  the  voice  of  old  Mathias  rose  an- 
grily from  the  street  outside.    Instantly  Elan's 
body  disappeared  from  her  view.    An  irrepressi- 
ble scream  burst  from  her,  and  a  few  minutes  later 
a  score  of  girls  were  gathered  round  a  sobbing  lit- 
tle figure  crouched  by  the  window. 

Meanwhile,  evidences  of  excitement  elsewhere 
were  audible.  The  gate  bell  was  pealing  in  the 
dormitory  of  the  Sietcrs,  and  soon  the  slippered 
feet  of  the  good  rellgleuscs  could  be  heard  patter- 
ing on  the  floor,  then  the  girls  heard  Mathias' 
voice,  quick  and  eager  with  excitement.  Half  an 
hour  later  Valerie  was  summoned  to  the  office. 
Mothe-  Scholasticus  sat  at  her  desk  wearing  an 
unwonted  look  of  severity. 


288         THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


"What  is  this,  my  child ?"  she  asked.  "Mathias 
reports  that  an  American  Indian  made  some  bird- 
like signal  from  the  street  and  that  you  waved 
him  a  signal  from  your  window.  He  says  this  In- 
dian was  so  emboldened  that  he  climber  to  the 
top  of  our  wall." 

"Was  he  hurt,  Mother?"  Valeric  asked. 

"No,  he  was  not  hurt.  When  Mathias  called 
to  him  he  clambered  quickly  down  and  disap- 
peared before  the  watch  could  apprehend  him. 
But  what  means  this,  Valerie?  How  can  it  be 
that  you  are  carrying  on  such  a  clandestine  cor- 
respondence with  a  savage  man?" 

Valerie  hung  her  head  and  was  silent. 

"Come,  tell  me,"  the  Mother  asked  again  in 
a  more  kindly  tone.  "What  is  it,  my  girl?  Where 
did  you  meet  this  man?" 

Valerie's  only  answer  was  to  throw  herself  upon 
the  breast  of  the  Mother  Superioi  and  break  into 
a  torrent  of  sobs. 

"There,  there  1"  said  the  Mother,  affectionately 
patting  the  bent,  chestnut  head.  "There,  there! 
We  shall  soon  get  over  this  folly,  but  we  can- 
not stay  here  longer,  little  lady.  Tomorrow  we 
shall  go  to  the  house  of  our  Order  at  Tours. 
Whatever  this  is,  it  must  cease." 

When  Elan  appeared  at  the  wall  next  morning 
and  sounded  his  bird  call,  there  was  no  flutter  of 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  289 


white  behind  the  distant  window  pane,  nor  on  the 
following  morning  did  the  signal  answer  his.  For 
a  week  he  persevered,  then  he  went  no  more  to 
the  convent  of  Notre  Dame  de  Bordeaux. 

Indeed,  his  visits  would  have  had  to  cease  in  any 
event,  as  Monsieur  Gabriel  had  work  of  a  more 
important  character  than  beating  oil  out  of  pelts 
with  padded  mallets  for  his  newest  employee.  It 
was  the  day  after  Elan's  last  visit  to  the  convent 
when  the  young  man  was  summoned  to  the  outer 
office. 

•'Be  seated,  Monsieur  Reville,"  said  his  em- 
ployer, indicating  a  vacant  chair  in  front  of  the 
desk.  "We  must  have  a  little  talk  together.  You 
know  the  North  American  woods.  Do  you  know 
the  country  of  the  St.  Lawrence?" 

"I  know  where  it  is,"  Elan  answered,  "al- 
though 1  have  never  hunted  in  the  woods  of  the 
great  river.  It  is,  however,  a  country  much  like 
that  in  which  I  have  hunted." 

"Ah,  that  is  well,"  answered  Gabriel.  "We 
have  a  ship,  the  St.  Laurent,  which  we  are  equip- 
ping for  a  voyage  up  the  St.  Lawrence.  Will  you 
take  charge  of  the  expedition?" 

Elan  assented  instantly. 

For  the  next  few  weeks  he  was  busy  superin- 
tending the  equipment  of  the  vessel  and  early  in 
the  fourth  week  he  set  sail.  The  vessel  was  fast 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


and  the  wind  favored  and  within  two  months  they 
came  to  anchor  before  Quebec.  Elan,  once 
more  in  the  wilderness,  donned  the  garments  to 

which  he  was  accustomed,  and  gathering  a  small 
band  of  Indian  hunters,  set  forth  on  his  expedi- 
tion. It  was  enormously  successful.  Soon  the 
holds  of  the  St.  Laurent  were  packed  with  the 
rich  spoil  of  the  woods,  and  the  young  chief  of 
the  expedition  was  satisfied  to  give  directions  for 
the  homeward  voyage. 

Monsieur  Gabriel  himself  greeted  him  at  the 
dock  and  warmly  welcomed  him  home.  The  de- 
light of  the  merchant  was  greatly  increased  when 
he  looked  over  the  vessel's  manifest  and  noted 
the  quantity  and  variety  of  the  skins  in  her  cargo. 

"Wonderful,  Monsieur  Revillel"  he  cried,  slap- 
ping Elan  on  the  back.  "  'Tis  the  most  prosperous 
voyage  we  ever  had.  Now  to  get  the  stuff  ashore 
and  then  after  a  little  while  you  shall  go  up  for 
another  priceless  load,  eh,  my  son?" 

But  Elan  shook  his  head.  "Monsieur  is  very 
kind  to  me,"  he  said,  "but  I  shall  not  go  back  to 
the  .    Lawrence  country." 

"Ail  Monsieur  Gabriel  looked  at  him  in  sur- 
prise. "But  Monsieur  Reville,  you  are  of  little 
value  to  me  in  the  curing  room  but  of  great  value, 
which  I  shall  pay,  in  the  field,  and  yet  you  would 
stay  in  the  curing  room?" 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


291 


"No,  Monsieur,"  Elan  shook  hi-  head.  "Not 
in  the  curing  room  either.  Monsieur  Gabriel.  I 
am  going  to  America." 

"And  where  in  America?" 

"I  am  going  to  New  Orleans." 

"Ah!"  Monsieur  Gabriel  cried  thoughtfully, 
"but  perhaps  we  could  make  arrangements? 
Would  you  be  our  factor  in  New  Orleans  if  we 
should  open  a  house  in  that  city?  Could  that  be 
done,  Monsieur  Reville?" 

"I  would  gladly  serve  you,"  Elan  answered 
warmly. 

Monsieur  Gabriel  rubbed  his  hands.  "Very 
well,  very  well!  I  shall  have  to  discuss  it  with 
ray  brothers  and  my  father  and  my  grandfather, 
but  in  these  matters  they  lean  much  on  my  judg- 
ment. I  think  it  may  be  arranged,  Monsieur 
ReviUe." 


CHAPTER  XXXI 


MY  WARRIOR 

The  August  evening  light  fell  brightly  on  the 
great  square  in  New  Orleans,  known  as  the  Place 
d'Armes,  beneath  whose  bordering  shade  trees 
women  fluttered  in  white  gowns,  little  children 
romped,  negro  slaves  sauntered,  chattering  and 
laughing  with  shining,  black  faces  and  flashing 
white  teeth,  and  citizens  in  lace  cuffs  and  collars, 
with  long  back  coats,  silken  breeches  and  stock- 
ings, and  buckled  shoes,  took  the  evening  air. 
There  was  a  vivacity,  wholly  French,  in  the  scene. 
Gay  laughter  rang  out  here  and  there,  sometimes 
in  the  shrill  laughter  of  children,  sometimes  the 
c  jar  contralto  of  young  women,  sometimes  the 
deeper,  harsher  merriment  of  men.   The  fringed 
deerskin  garments  of  couriers  and  hunters  mingled 
with  the  more  conventional  garb  of  the  city  men. 
An  occasional  Indian,  naked  save  for  breech  clout 
and  feathered  leggings,  stood  under  a  tree,  dark, 
silent,  with  dull  eyes  and  impassive  features. 

Down  each  side  of  the  square  ran  a  low,  rec- 
tangular building,  visible  beneath  the  shade  trees. 

292 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  293 


In  front  of  these  buildings  soldiers  were  gather- 
ing, with  pale  blue  coats  faced  in  huft  and  glitter- 
ing with  gilt  buttons  and  braid.    They  wore  tri- 
angular hats  with  white  cockades,  centered  with 
the  lilies  of  f>ance.    Broad,  white  bandoliers 
crossed  on  their  breasts  and  held  their  knapsacks 
upon  their  shoulders.    A  clear  bugle  note  sang 
on  the  air,  and  the  musicians,  in  scarlet  coats, 
began  to  form  ranks.    The  sun  blazed  on  their 
instruments  of  brass.   The  eyes  of  the  spectators 
danced  as  the  long,  high  roll  of  the  ketde  drums, 
and  the  clear,  piercing  music  of  the  fifes  struck  on 
their  ears.    Then  came  the  measured  tread  of 
marching  men,  as  the  files  moved  out  on  the  es- 
planade, the  gorgeous  band  in  front,  the  fifes 
shrilling,  the  kettle  drums  in  full  rat-a-tat.  They 
were  out  now  in  the  sun-swept  field,  long  lines  of 
bayonets  flashing  like  serpents  of  silver,  and  a 
cloud  of  golden  fire  in  advance  where  the  sun 
broke  in  a  shower  of  golden  reflections  upon  the 
polished  instruments  of  the  bandsmen.  Suddenly 
these  instruments  were  raised  and  the  crashing 
music  of  the  brasses  blared  out.    Away  down  the 
esplanade  swept  the  battalion.   A  group  of  officers 
with  plumed  chapeaux  and  golden  epaulettes  on 
their  shoulders,  had  ridden  out  to  the  center  of 
the  square  where  they  reined  their  horses  grace- 
fully and  waited. 


294        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


Elan  Reville  noticed  the  colonel,  a  laughing 

soldier,  with  a  slender  figure,  clear,  bold  eyes 
unilcr  level  brows  and  a  slight  mustache  above 
merry  lips,  who  rode  like  a  centaur.  Although 
he  did  not  know  it,  he  himself  was  an  object  of 
interest  to  the  military  men. 

"You  don't  mean  it,  Ribaud,"  said  Colonel  de 
Courcey,  as  he  keenly  surveyed  the  dark  and  soli- 
tary figure  on  the  steps  of  the  church. 

"Yes,  my  colonel,  'tis  surely  the  new  factor," 
Ribaud  answered.  "I  camped  with  him  and  hunt- 
ed with  him  up  the  Missouri.  He  is  a  brave  and 
gallant  fellow." 

A  quick  gleam  of  pleasure  flashed  in  the  eyes 
of  the  colonel.  "We  can't  have  too  many  such 
in  our  company  here,"  he  said.  "He  does  not 
seem  to  love  the  city  over  well?" 

"No,"  said  Lieutenant  Ribaud.  "He  is  sel- 
dom in  town  except  when  there  is  a  ship  to  load. 
He  spends  most  of  his  time  in  the  field." 

"Pray,  Lieutenant,  present  my  compliments  to 
him  and  say  that  Colonel  de  Courcey  will  be  hon- 
ored if  he  will  assist  him  in  the  review,  and  join 
us  at  dinner  this  evening." 

Lieutenant  Ribaud  spurred  his  horse  across  the 
field,  pausing  in  front  of  the  church  of  St.  Louis, 
upon  whose  steps  Elan  stood  observing  the  ma- 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


295 


neuvcrs.   He  courteously  repeated  his  superior's 

invitation. 

I  Jan  noiUlcd  in  assent  and  followed  Riband's 
horse  toward  the  reviewing  party.  Dc  Courccy 
galloped  forward  to  meet  them,  and  in  front  of 
Elan  sprang  to  the  ground.  His  outstretched 
hand  clasped  that  of  the  young  factor,  and  to- 
gether the  two  walked  back  toward  the  little  clus- 
ter of  mounted  officers,  de  Courcey  leading  his 
steed  by  the  bridle. 

"So,  Monsieur  is  from  Bordeaux?"  de  Courcey 
said,  after  the  review  and  when  the  officers  were 
seated  at  mess. 

The  young  man  nodded. 

"They  tell  me,"  said  the  officer,  "that  the  house 
of  M.  Dupont  is  fortunate  in  its  factor.  Hitherto, 
only  the  ships  of  our  good  friend  Rene  de  Boncour 
came  to  New  Orleans  for  furs,  but  now  they  say 
Rene  is  hard  put  to  it  to  load  as  big  a  cargo  as 
that  which  goes  into  the  Dupont  ships." 

"Monsieur  de  Boncour  is  also  of  Bordeaux?" 
said  Elan. 

"Aye,  and  he  is  a  good  little  fellow,"  de  Cour- 
cey answered.  "Although  he  has  not  met  you  I 
have  heard  him  speak  very  well  of  you.  There  is 
no  mean  jealousy  in  Rene,  Monsieur." 

Elan  smiled  quietly.  should  be  glad  to  meet 
M.  de  Boncour,"  he  said. 


296        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


"Then,  by  Jove,  you  shall/*  answered  de  Cour- 
ccy.  "The  evening  is  youni;,  let  us  do  ourselves 
the-  honor  of  calling  upon  Madame  de  Boncour 

and  her  family." 

After  the  repast  de  Courcey,  Ribaud  and  F.Ian 
walked  over  to  the  de  Honcour  place.  Rene  greet- 
ed them  warmly  at  the  door  and  shook  hands  with 
Elan  most  graciously. 

"Ah,  mother,"  he  called,  as  Madame  de  Bon- 
cour advanced  smiling  to  greet  the  visitors.  "  I'his 
is  the  young  gentleman  from  Bordeaux  who  has 
kept  himself  so  remote  from  us.  Let  him  be  wel- 
comed, mother,  so  that  he  shall  not  hide  himself 
in  the  woods." 

"You  shall  have  cause  to  complain  no  more," 
said  Klan  smiling,  as  he  shook  hands  with  Va- 
lerie's mother.  "If  I  have  permission  1  shall 
come  often." 

"And  never  too  often,"  Madame  de  Boncour 
replied.  "We  love  to  hear  of  Bordeaux.  Our  lit- 
tle girl  was  at  schol  there,  you  know." 

Elan  did  not  answer,  but  Ren'^  took  up  the 
thread  of  conversation. 

"Aye,  we  sent  her  there  to  finish  her  education 
with  the  good  Sisters,"  he  said.  "A  great  little 
girl  is  cur  Valerie,  Monsieur  Reville,  and  it  fills 
our  heart  with  joy  that  she  so  soon  is  to  return  to 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  297 


Elan  looked  up  quickly.   "Mademoiselle  dc 
Bontour  is  to  return  soon,  then?"  he  inquire  J. 

riily,"  answered  de  Boncour.  "A  month 
hence  she  sets  sail,  coming  back  in  the  Marie 
Celeste.  God  prosper  the  voyage  1  Before 
the  winter  dotes  down  she  should  be  in  our 
arms." 

Thereafter  Elan  was  a  frequent  visitor  at  the 
de  Boncour  home.  In  the  fur  business  in  which 
they  were  engaged  the  men  found  a  subject  of 
much  interest  for  discussion,  and  Rene  soon  be- 
came very  fond  of  the  tall  young  hunter  who  rep- 
resented his  rivals. 

Raoul,  who  was  about  Elan's  own  age,  declared 
him  to  be  a  prince  of  good  companions,  and  Cias- 
pare,  now  on  the  verge  of  young  manhood,  was 
devoted  to  the  handsome  young  hunter  who  could 
teach  him  so  much  of  the  ways  of  the  wood. 
Madame  de  Boncour,  too,  had  a  quick  and  affec- 
tionate heart  which  soon  enveloped  I'lan. 

The  days  passed  quickly  until  the  new  year 
came.  On  the  morning  of  its  feast  day  an  Indian 
hunter  reported  to  Rene  de  Boncour  that  the 
Mark  Ci  li'st.-  was  beating  her  way  up  the  broad 
river,  f  aving  entered  the  delta.  That  night  Elan 
disappeared. 

On  board  Captain  Halevy's  good  ship,  a  few 
mornings  later,  Valerie  dc  Boncour  awoke  before 


298         THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


daylight.  Her  heart  was  full  of  the  excitement 
of  the  home-coming  and  she  hurried  on  deck,  to 
survey  the  dark  but  familiar  shores.  Just  as  the 
morning  dawned  she  gave  a  start  and  a  cry  of 
pleasure.  From  the  dark  bank  of  the  eastern 
shore  came  clear  and  high  the  call  of  the  wood 
thrush.  She  tried  to  pierce  the  gloom  on  the  river 
but  could  see  nothing,  n^r  was  the  helmsman  to 
whom  she  next  appealed  able  to  discover  any  sign 
of  a  living  thing  in  the  shadow  of  the  bank.  The 
Marie  Celeste  slowly  fought  the  current,  tacking 
back  and  forth,  and  at  last  came  to  anchor  off  the 
de  Boncour  levee. 

Before  the  iron  hook  dropped  into  the  water, 
de  Boncour's  barge  was  alongside,  and  an  instant 
later  Valerie  was  being  embraced  by  father  and 
mother  and  delighted  brothers.  Along  the  shore 
were  friends  of  her  childhood,  all  eager  to  wel- 
come her.  Indeed,  the  day  was  one  of  bewilder- 
ing welcomes  and  she  soon  found  that  the  night 
was  to  be  turned  also  into  a  festival  of  joy  for  her 
home-coming. 

Do  Boncour's  parlors  had  been  cleared  for  a 
ball,  which  the  trader  is  to  give  in  honor  of 
Valerie's  arrival.  So  after  an  early  tea  and  a 
brief  nap  the  girl  awoke  to  find  her  home  crowd- 
ed with  the  ^nxnl  citizens  of  New  Orleans  and 
their  wives  and  daughters,  among  whose  gay  gar- 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  299 

mcnts  sparkled  the  gold  epaulettes  of  the  mili- 
tary officers. 

Clothed  by  her  loving  mother  and  adoring  ne- 
gro maid,  Valerie  was  a  vision  of  beauty  as  siie 
entered  the  ballroom.   As  the  queenly  litde  hgure 
advanced  on  the  arm  of  Colonel  de  Courcey,  a 
murmur  of  admiration  arose  from  the  young 
men.    Valerie  was  smiling  shyly  but  her  glance 
shifted  from  face  to  face  as  if  she  was  seekmg 
somebody.  The  musicians  began  to  play  and  the 
dancers  formed  in  the  minuet.    As  they  stepped 
through  its  stately,  graceful  figures  the  voice  of 
the  negro  butler  was  heard  in  the  hall  announcmg: 
"Monsieur  Elan  Revillel" 
A  second  or  two  later  Elan  entered  the  ball- 
room. He  was  clothed  in  black  satin  with  a  huge 
ruffle  of  white  lace  at  his  throat  and  at  his  cuffs. 
His  curly  hair  drawn  back  and  tied  with  a  rib- 
bon, and  powdered,  after  the  fashion  of  the  day, 
shone  white  against  the  deep  weather-tan  of  his 
countenance. 

As  Valerie  faced  the  door  her  glance  fell  upon 
him  and  she  stood  motionless,  her  eyes  wide  and 
the  color  in  her  cheeks  coming  and  going.  He 
advanced  a  step  into  the  room  and  held  out  his 

hands.  .  ... 

As  if  drawn  by  a  power  invisible  and  irresistible, 
the  girl  moved  toward  him.  The  dancers  paused 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 


in  surprise,  de  Courcey  turning  with  a  look  of 
swift  and  searching  inquiry  toward  the  newcomer. 
The  music  ended  raggedly,  a  surprised  violinist 
stopping  with  his  bow  half  drawn,  and  a  harper 
dropping  his  hand  from  the  still  vibrating  string. 
Valerie's  cheeks  glowed  and  gleamed,  now  the 
color  of  the  royal  rose,  now  the  hue  of  the  delicate 
lily.  The  lace  at  her  bosom  rose  and  fell.  Her 
wide  eyes  were  startled,  incredulous,  glowing  with 
a  great  hope  that  fought  with  unbelief.  She 
searched  his  face,  examining  each  feature.  He 
stood,  smiling  a  little,  his  hands  toward  her. 
"Speak 1" 

Her  tone  was  tense,  eager;  her  word  a  com- 
mand and  an  entreaty. 

His  voice,  deep  and  clear,  answered  her: 
"Humming  Bird  r 

The  unbelief  in  her  eyes  died;  the  hope  blazed 

"You— you  are  ?"    The  tremulous  voice 

broke. 

"Elan,"  he  answered. 

Her  arms  went  out  and  she  swayed  toward  him. 
Like  a  golden  peal  of  pure  joy  her  voice  rang: 
"My  Warrior  1" 


CHAPTER  XXXll 

EYES  THAT  LOOKED  BACK 


The  great  reception  hall  of  the  Popes,  the  splen- 
did sala  regia,  with  its  pontifical  throne  and  ts 
priceless  tapestries,  seemed  vast  and  one ly  aj- 
though  it  was  hy  no  means  untenanted.    It  took 
the  throngs  who  attended  the  state  audiences  to 
fill  that  m'agnlficent  corridor;  the  jew  who  n^^^ 
crossed  its  floor  seemed  lost  m  it    They  ;vcre  ^^^^^ 
^rims  going  to  or  coming  from  the  great  \  atican 
irpefs  n  front  of  whose  vestibules,  guard.ng  the 
Sbt?ne  on  one  hand  and  the  Pauline  on  the  other, 
s  ood  two  huge  Swiss  in  the  anc.ent  uniform  Ml- 
hael  Ingclo  had  designed  for  their  corps  NoWe 
Tards  in  black  velvet  ceremoniously  sa  uted  the 
.Kpv  nassed    Bl''"''-robed  ecclesiastics  on 
Swiss  as  they  P^^^^f '   °'      ^  ^^^^^    ^  Cardinal 
business  bent,  went  bac       I  tortn^  rt 
in  his  red  garments  step,    ^  from  the  .  st.buk  ot 
L  Paute  chapel,  and  then  paused  with  a  smile 
of  greeting,  as  an  aged  pncst  approached  h.m. 

'^Th  Fa  her  Reville,"  he  said,  ''how  prospers 
.hen  kt  alofthefaithP  Can  the  Holy  Father 
be  of  help  to  the  brethren  of  Ignatius? 


302         THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 

"No,  I  came  not  to  the  Vatican  on  business  of 
the  Society,  Monsignor,"  answered  Father  Re- 
villc.  "I  am  on  my  way  to  the  library,  where  I 
hav  e  been  transcribing  some  of  the  parchments  of 
the  Libi-r  Pontificalis." 

"Soldier  and  student  by  turns,  but  always 
Saint  1"  the  Cardinal  said  graciously.  "Well,  I 
am  for  the  closet  of  his  Holiness,  so  in  God's 
kecpinf  *  leave  you.  Father." 

With  a  smile  the  old  man  thanked  him  and  he 
made  his  way  toward  the  great  staircase. 

Father  Reville  was  slightly  more  bent  and  a 
few  more  fine  lines  wrinkled  his  countenance.  His 
black  cassock  hung  loosely  on  his  spare  frame. 
It  was  the  same  simple  robe  he  had  ever  worn,  for 
no  insignia  marks  the  General  of  the  Jesuits.  His 
step  was  a  trifle  hesitant  but  his  eyes  were  un- 
dimmed.  As  the  day  was  warm  he  held  his  biretta 
in  his  hand,  leaving  uncovered  the  tonsured  crown 
and  the  white  hair  that  fell  to  his  shoulders. 

With  the  slightly  hesitant  step  he  walked  down 
the  said  rcgia  or  vast  staircase  that  endured  to 
tell  the  world  that  once  there  lived  and  dreamed 
a  genius  called  Bernini.  Crossing  the  court  with 
its  magnificent  triple  colonnade,  he  made  his  way 
to  the  long  library  gallery.  All  who  passed  him 
gazed  with  affection  at  the  old  man ;  some  stopped 
him  to  ask  his  benediction.   He  paused  at  an  al- 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  303 


cove,  barred  by  a  gate  at  one  end  and  lighted  by 
a  rose  window  at  the  other.  Opening  the  ^^atc  Ik- 
entered  this  nook.    There  was  a  rc-.xdln^  tahk- 
under  the  window,  and  a  chair,    'i'hc  Lticlosin^r 
partitions  were  shelved,  :vid  each  shelf  held  a 
roll  of  age-yellow  parchment.   Carefully  selecting 
one  of  these,  Father  Reville  had  it  placed  on  the 
table  by  an  attendant.    Bowing  his  thanks  to  the 
man,  the  priest  laid  a  writing  tablet  beside  the 
parchment,  wiped  a  pair  of  spectacles,  and,  placing 
these  on  the  bridge  of  his  nose,  seated  hnnselt. 
The  Latin  text  on  the  vellum  scroll  was  faded 
and  dim.    It  was  lettered  in  the  beautifully  exe- 
cuted  characters  of  the  ancient  monastic  engross- 
ing, but  many  of  the  words  had  almost  vanished 
and  some  were  altogether  lost.    With  a  goose 
quill,  dipped  frequently  in  the  iiikhorn  on  his 
table,  Father  Reville  laboriously  transcribed  the 
record  on  his  writing  pad. 

"Alexander  III,  presently  and  for  some  short 
time,  held  possession  of  a  crystal  rood,"  the  an- 
cient narrative  ran.  "It  was  a  gift  to  him  while 
yet  he  was  Archbishop  of  Siena  from  the  jewel- 
workers'  craft  of  that  See.  Mis  Holiness,  al- 
though austere  in  his  tastes,  and  little  given  to 
adornments,  pri/.ed  this  crystal  highly.  The  tree 
of  the  cross  was  but  of  the  length  of  a  finger,  still 
the  crystal  was  of  great  luster  and  the  carving  was 


304        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 

most  cunningly  executed.    The  features  of  the 
Christ  were  nobly  made,  His  Divine  and  cruelly 
lacerated  figure  hung  from  the  Transverse,  elo- 
quent  of  his  sacrifice,  as"— here  the  words  were 
missing  from  the  parchment— "the  skill  of  a  mas- 
ter craftsman.  One  blemish  only  the  crystal  had, 
yet,  so  strange  are  the  ways  of  God,  it  added  to 
the  effect  of  the  craftsman's  work,  although  it 
seemed  as  if  he  did  not  so  intend.   Near  where  the 
nail  pierced  the  sacred  feet,  a  dull,  reddish  blemish 
marred  the  transparent  shaft.   It  passed  through 
the  feet,  and  the  pillar,  a  straight  spear,  which 
looked  like  unto  the  rust  of  the  nail.    But  when 
one  closely  looked  it  was  plain  that  this  was  acci- 
dental and  not  the  design  of  the  craftsman,  for  the 
carved  head  of  the  nail  was  not  truly  placed  on  the 
blemish  but  a  little  to  the  side.   This  wonderful 
jewel  was  bestowed  by  Alexander  upon  one  Philip 
of  Exeter,  a  knight  of  Syria,  serving  in  the  train 
of  Baldwin,  of  Jerusalem,  the  King,  as  a  reward 
fot  a  deed  of  high  daring  and  chivalry,  whom  his 
Holiness  in  the  bestowal  dubbed  the  bravest  of 
the  brave,  and  thus  blessed  him  and  his  house." 

(Then  followed  the  blessing  Alexander  had  be- 
stowed on  the  young  soldier.) 

"The  crystal  rood!"  he  murmured.  "A  fin- 
ger's length — yes,  it  would  measure  so.  And  the 
strange  blemish,  the  blood  mark,  or  rust  markl 


THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD  3^5 

Ah,  what  was  it  the  good  ship  captain  sakl  -  f 
that  plunge  into  the  black,  tcmpcst-torturca  deep 
Ah,  yes;^ravest  of  the  brave.'    And  Alexander 
dubbed  him  'bravest  of  the  brave. 

The  old  priest  passed  a  hand  over  his  eyes. 
The  vision  of  shelved  walls,  of  reading  table  and 
the  ace-vellow  parchment  dimly  marked  u.th 
tl^^Zrs,  globing  under  the  colored  l.«  t  that 
sifted  in  through  the  rose  wmdow— this  %vas  shut 
'ou     Xnother'scene  flashed  before  him-the  gag- 
ged rip  of  lightning  across  the  storm,  the  w.ld 
b  ackness  in  which  white  ghosriy  crests  reared 
Slemselves,  the  raging  desolation,  the  dark  hand 
stretched  forth  to  save.  Then  the  vision  changed , 
there  came  the  radiant  night  of  stars,  the  foUow- 
ng  dawn.  th.  glowing  day,  and  the  revelation  of  a 
Itfong.  clear,  confident  face,  dominant  over  all 

Aye,  'bravest  of  the  brave.' "  repeated  the 
Jesuit!  is  he  let  his  hand  drop  from  h.^  eyes. 
"Truly,  the  ways  of  God  are  wonderful! 

His  glance  rested  on  the  parchment. 

"  'Though  the  generations  be  a  score  or  a  hun- 
dred.' Surely,  it  is  as  thou  didst  say,  splendid 
Alexander.  Surely  in  thy  blessing  was  the  might 
of  God  For  behold,  'tis  not  alone  benedic.on 
but  prophecy  that  marks  this  Parchment!  Lpon 
thee  be  the  blessing  of  our  Father,  the  Almighty 


3o6        THE  CRYSTAL  ROOD 

God,  and  hit  Son,  the  gentle  and  brave  Christ,  our 
Saviour,  and  the.  Holy  Ghoit,  who  commissioned 
us  through  the  Sainted  Peter;  upon  thee,  bravest 
of  the  brave,  and  thy  ton  and  thy  ton's  ton,  for- 
ever 1'" 


THE  END 


